


let’s go away for awhile

by ebenroot



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Black Mirror: Hang the DJ, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, M/M, Matchmaking, Mild Angst, Slow Burn, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 21:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13467126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebenroot/pseuds/ebenroot
Summary: “...Okay...I thought that...you’d be some sort of psychopath, and the system is actually some crazy cult and I’d get kidnapped and be forced into some blood ritual with you,” Victor admits.There's a moment's pause before Yuuri speaks. “Would we get married to Satan afterwards?” he asks with a bat of his eyelashes.“We’d probably get married to Satan, yes."--wherein everything happens for a reasontranslated intoJapanese





	let’s go away for awhile

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 日本語 available: [let’s go away for awhile (日本語版)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15584763) by [Kay (kay_0_0)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_0_0/pseuds/Kay)



> unbeta'd

Yuuri is initiated into the system on the first day of Summer. He is set up with a match no less than twelve hours later.

It’s amazing at how much work the Coach does to take the stress off of Yuuri’s mind. It takes him to a small shop in the Hub where there’s already a perfect dinner outfit waiting for him at the counter, paid in full. It guides him though the process of styling his hair, using the right product to give it a lustrous shine and a pleasantly citrus aroma.

It hails him a cab that picks him up from his living quarters at eight on the dot, and it goes over simple ice-breaker conversations that Yuuri tries to memorize on the ride to the restaurant located in the hearth of the Hub’s large structure.

It’s so amazingly simple.

He arrives at the restaurant at eight-thirty. According to his Coach, he is late by two minutes.

“Is he expecting me to be late?” Yuuri asks as he tiptoes his way into the restaurant. It’s dimly lit, with candles at each booth and table. People are standing around in pairs, conversing with each other, smiling and laughing and checking the glass faces of their Coaches in their hand.

Yuuri clutches onto his own Coach, the glass slick against his sweaty palm.

“ _He knows you will be late._ ”

Yuuri winces. “Oh god, that’s awful. It hasn’t even started and I’m already making a bad impression,” he groans through clenched teeth. The dim lighting doesn’t help his vision either, squinting through the lenses of his blue-rimmed glasses. Yuuri moves at a snail’s pace, trudging along so as to not accidentally bump into anyone or any _thing_.

“ _Punctuality and time management is invaluable data towards finding your ultimate match. Your tardiness is well appreciated._ ”

Yuuri bumps his shin into a wall as he turns.

He wastes a minute or so hissing curses through his teeth and shuffling his weight from left foot to right foot.

Afterwards, Yuuri moves with caution into another dining area that’s even more dimly lit than the area he previously navigated through. The tables are large and draped with white cloths, and there’s a sound of violins in the air along with the scent of chocolate, roses, and champagne.

He feels a nervous buzz in his chest as he breathes it all in, glancing around from table to table.

“How do I know which one he is?” Yuuri asks his Coach.

He sees that while a majority of the tables are occupied by two inhabitants - both enjoying their dinner and making inaudible small talk - there are also people sitting at tables alone, Coaches out and eyes averted to their screens.

Yuuri does a nervous dance. His soulmate might be in here. He thinks he’s going to puke.

His Coach flashes a bright light.

“ _This is him_ ,” it announces as it displays a photograph that Yuuri has to bring two inches away from his face and squint at.

Oh.

Oh no.

 _He’s hot_.

“This is him?” Yuuri questions the device, voice a little bit shaky. “Are you sure? This isn’t a joke? Or a mistake? You’re not going to recalculate this, right?”

“ _This is not a mistake_.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yuuri says, mildly breathless.

From the photograph alone, Yuuri sees the man is _gorgeous_. Silver hair with the bangs swept over the left eye, smooth flawless skin, and a fine jawline.

He’s wearing a Hugo Boss suit. Yuuri starts to feel rather underdressed in just a blue button up, tie and slacks. The guy also looks like he smells really nice. _Really_ nice. Does Yuuri smell nice? His Coach didn’t specify wearing cologne so he just went with a basic bar of soap and body spray. _Fuck_ , what if his date doesn’t think he’s taking this seriously? What if he thinks he’s not as invested into the system and what if things go _bad_ and-

“Coach, I don’t think I can do this,” Yuuri gasps out, unaware that he was holding his breath up till now.

“ _Failure to comply with the system will result-_ ”

“I know the protocol. I’m just saying...well, does it have to be _tonight_?” Yuuri asks, starting a nervous pace back and forth out of the doorframe. “Maybe - maybe we could have a brunch? Or - or maybe we can have a date in the park and do lunch or - or _something_. Just - I just think that I need some more time to, you know, better prepare myself and-“

“ _You have the time allotted to you. Failure to comply with the system_ -”

“I _am_ complying. I’m just asking if I can comply tomorrow or next Tuesday or-“ Yuuri brings his free hand to his face and sighs into his palm. “I just don’t think I can do this.”

“ _You have to do this. He is coming._ ”

And to this, Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

“What do you mean? I thought I was the one that was late,” he questions the device clutched in his hand.

“You are,” is the response he hears, but it didn’t come from the Coach.

Yuuri squeaks, dropping his Coach as his shoulders shoot upwards to ears.

Behind him, the man - Yuuri’s date, Yuuri’s _possible match_ \- quickly ducks down to catch it in his free hand before it can hit the ground.

He stands upright with it, holding Yuuri’s Coach out towards him, an amused smile on his lips.

“Don’t want this to break now, do we?” he asks Yuuri with a wink. His voice is sexy. Yuuri thinks he’s going to die before the date can even get started.

He takes back his Coach with trembling hands, averting his eyes to their feet. His date is wearing fine Italian shoes. Yuuri is only wearing a pair of brown loafers. There’s even a scuff at the tip of his left shoe he didn’t remember being there before, but now it’s all he can stare at.

“My Coach said you would be a little late,” Yuuri’s date speaks. “So when I saw you standing here, I didn’t know if you could see me well so—“ he gestures to himself, to his big, broad chest that is making Yuuri internally scream— “I thought I should be the one to introduce myself.”

His date then holds his hand out. “Victor Nikiforov.”

His hands look nice. They look soft and his nails look like he got a fresh manicure just hours before. Yuuri didn’t lotion his hands before he left, and his nails are finely bitten stubs. He doesn’t make a motion at all to let go of the Coach he’s holding onto for dear life.

Victor lowers his hand, baby blue eyes searching Yuuri intensely like he’s a puzzle that needs to be cracked wide open.

“No handshakes?” he asks, and to make matters worse, he steps further into Yuuri’s personal bubble. “Or maybe we should hug?”

Yuuri furiously shakes his head ‘no’. Victor gives an awkward laugh.

“Um...” Victor raises his own Coach up to his lips. “This _is_ him, right?”

“ _This is him,_ ” Victor’s Coach responds in the same androgynous monotone Yuuri’s Coach speaks in.

Victor slips his Coach into the pocket of his suit and gives another laugh, shrugging.

“Well, I’m...I’m sorry if I’m messing things up right now. First timer and everything,” he apologizes to Yuuri with a lopsided, heart shaped smile.

It makes Yuuri _melt_.

“No, no,” Yuuri says quickly, slipping his own Coach into his back pocket. He tangles his fingers together behind his back, nervously biting at his lower lip where it’s chapped and dry. “I’m...I’m a first timer too so, I don’t...really know how to do this either...I’m sorry, I’m being stupid-”

“You’re not being stupid,” Victor chides. “It’s weird. Some little computer the size of a hockey puck telling you you _might_ meet the love of your life in the next some-odd hours is... _weird_.”

Yuuri laughs, brushing a loose strand of hair back behind his ear. Victor’s smile gets bigger on his lips, and he steps just a little bit closer.

He does smell nice. Cardamom, bergamot, and lavender together make Victor’s scent absolutely intoxicating.

“So, if you’re stupid for thinking that this is weird, then let’s both be stupid and figure this thing out together,” Victor says, and he offers his hand forward again. “Deal?”

And there’s something a flutter in Yuuri’s chest, gently against his lungs like the beat of a hummingbird’s wing.

He takes Victor’s hand, and his fits perfectly in Victor’s palm.

“Deal.”

 

 

 

Here is what Yuuri learns about Victor over their dinner (hand-selected by both of their Coaches):

  1. He’s twenty-seven.
  2. He has a poodle named Makkachin and she’s _adorable_.
  3. He worked at an advertising firm. His co-worker is the one that suggested he’d join the system, and here he his two days later.
  4. He’s glad that Yuuri is his first. Very, very glad.



“I was bracing myself for the worst, if I’m going to be honest,” Victor laughs, pushing around the lump of summer squash on his plate, an accessory to the steamed lobster and yuzu vinaigrette. It looks more appetizing than the foie gras and strawberry terrine on Yuuri’s plate. Yuuri doesn’t even _like_ foie gras.

“What were you thinking I’d be like?” Yuuri asks instead, also pushing around the food on his plate.

Victor gives another laugh, shaking his head. That’s something else Yuuri learns about Victor: he has a nice laugh.

“Like...I don’t know. It’s stupid now that I think about it.”

“Now I’m getting curious,” Yuuri says, forgoing his plate to lean in closer.

Victor pushes his hair back a bit, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“...Okay...I thought that...you’d be some sort of psychopath, and the system is actually some crazy cult and I’d get kidnapped and be forced into some blood ritual with you,” Victor admits.

There's a moment's pause before Yuuri speaks. “Would we get married to Satan afterwards?” he asks with a bat of his eyelashes.

“We’d probably get married to Satan, yes. And the reception would have been some massive blood orgy.”

“ _God_ ,” Yuuri smothers his laughter into his table napkin.

Victor’s smile is that heart-shape again. “My Coach told me not to tell you that, so I’m probably violating the protocol,” he whispers to Yuuri.

Yuuri gives a momentary glance at their surroundings. People are still dining, still conversing with their dates, still in their own little worlds.

“Since Satan has yet to appear, I’m going to assume it’s fine,” Yuuri whispers back. Victor dissolves into a fit of cute, little giggles.

They take a couple more bites out of their food, a few more sips of wine. They’ve also scooted closer together in their booth, as if there is some magnetic pull between them.

“Do I look like a psychopath?” Yuuri asks when he’s managed to finish his strawberry terrine. He pulls at the collar of his shirt, then fusses at his hair. More strands are coming loose. He must have done something wrong with the conditioner and gel.

“Well I mean, psychopaths all look like everyone else, so what do I know? Hell, maybe _I’m_ the psychopath kidnapping _you_ for a Satanic blood orgy,” Victor blurts with a shrug.

Yuuri makes an ugly snorting laugh. His cheeks flare hot with embarrassment when a couple two tables away turn to glare at him.

He turns his eyes towards his plate, resting his hands in his lap. Right. This isn’t a joke. This is serious. This is his _future._

Yuuri continues to pick at his food, lightly cutting into the foie gras with the edge of his knife. When it becomes clear that Yuuri isn’t going to make a rebuttal, Victor goes back to eating as well, doing so with lethargic chews.

Victor’s meal looks so _good_. Yuuri’s never had lobster before. He’s never been able to afford it. And sure, technically he’s never been able to afford foie gras and strawberry terrine either. But, that lobster just looks so _good_ , big fat pieces of meat that Victor lightly dips in the small dish of melted butter.

“Do you want some?”

Yuuri blinks. “Huh?”

Victor offers his fork forward, a large chunk of lobster meat on the end.

“Caught you staring,” he says with a smile. “You want a bite?”

Yuuri glances around at the other couples eating from their own plates, then to his own plate of food barely disturbed.

He feels the weight of his Coach in his pocket, and he bites his lip again.

“Is...is that allowed?” he asks.

Victor shrugs. “There’s nothing wrong with it to me,” he says, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. He gestures with the fork again, the lobster meat beginning to slip. "Open up for the treat train~," Victor garbles out in a high pitched voice.

Yuuri laughs, shaking his head. "What is _that?_ "

"It’s the voice I make whenever I feed Makkachin treats. It has a ninety-eight success rate so—" Victor smiles, going back into that tinny, goofy voice — "open up!"

Yuuri does so with a smile.

It’s _delicious_. Yuuri gives a moan at the taste of it.

Victor begins to rub the side of his thumb against Yuuri’s shoulder in gentle, little circles.

"Good, right?" he murmurs, already cutting off another piece to feed to Yuuri.

Yuuri’s sure he would have ate that lump as well, until he looks past Victor and sees a couple glaring at him. Not just them, but the couple to _their_ right is staring. And the couple to their left. And the staff standing in the corner with their pitchers of water.

And then there are the two men in black that are looming in the doorway. The same ones that Yuuri’s seen earlier in his day as he picked up his clothing from the store.

They’re watching too. They’re watching everyone.

Yuuri scoots away from Victor till they are an arm’s length apart, as the other couples are seated. Immediately as he does so, the heads turn away.

Victor blinks at Yuuri, confused. "You...you didn’t like it?" he asks.

Yuuri opens his mouth, closes it, then lightly smashes his foie gras with his fork.

"We should...we should just stick to our own food," he whispers, and doesn’t say anymore after that.

Dessert arrives when they finish their meals, on separate plates. It’s a chocolate ganache and bread pudding for them both. There’s no need to share it, though Yuuri really enjoyed that spark of intimacy they had.

Victor looks at Yuuri as he eats. Yuuri does his best to keep his glances quick and subtle. He also gives his sparing glances at his surroundings, at the couples at their tables with their Coaches out-

"Oh!" Yuuri gasps, wiping his mouth. "We - we didn’t do the thing," he says in a hurry, withdrawing his Coach.

"Oh." Victor says, and does the same with his. "I didn’t know if we should have done it before dinner. In case it...might have spoiled it."

Yuuri swallows hard. He begins to sweat.

For a moment, they just stare at the little devices. Yuuri sees his reflection in the glass, all wide eyed and filled with worry and caution and maybe - definitely, absolutely - hope. He looks at Victor through his eyelashes, and Victor is looking at him.

"...Do you want to do it together?" Victor suggests. His voice is a gentle whisper amid the sound of violins and clinking silverware.

“We’re supposed to do it together, aren’t we? A symbol of us entering into this together or something?” Yuuri says, masking the hard swallow with a smile.

Victor scoots in close again, though it isn’t necessary. He also puts his arm back around Yuuri’s shoulders and hugs him in close, which also isn’t necessary, but pleases the flutter in Yuuri’s chest that is his beating heart.

"On three?" Victor instructs, readying his Coach as a thumbprint appears dead center of the black screen. Yuuri gets his ready. His hands are shaking again. "One...two...three."

They tap their Coaches at the same time.

They wait as a blue circle of light around the Coach’s rim begins to glow.

They wait. They wait.

...

...

**Your relationship is 10 hours**

Oh.

...

Oh.

Yuuri doesn’t see Victor’s face, but he feels Victor go a little slack against him.

"Oh," Victor says, and there’s no hiding the sound of his disappointment.

The two stare at the faces of their Coaches, till eventually the display changes and begins counting backwards from nine hours, fifty-nine minutes and fifty-eight, fifty-seven, fifty-six, fifty-five, et cetera.

Yuuri manages to take a breath. He smiles, though it hurts something mean in his chest.

"You were right," he tells Victor, "this spoiled it."

Victor doesn’t say anything in response. He only squeezes Yuuri’s shoulder tight.

Dessert is finished with quiet scrapes of their spoons and taken away immediately after. There is no worry about paying the bill, the Coaches being the ones to take care of that.

Victor and Yuuri walk out of the restaurant together, Victor’s arm still firmly wrapped around Yuuri’s shoulders.

Yuuri feels the stares of everyone they pass by. He feels the heavy weight of his Coach in his pocket, still counting down, even more.

 

 

 

The cab picks them up five minutes after dinner. They both slide into the backseat, buckle up, and are on their way.

The night sky is pretty, black with few flecks of starlight. The moon - big and full above - is prettier.

"Will your dog be okay with you not being home?" Yuuri asks as the cab makes its way down a dusty little road, the city behind them now just a faint glow in the darkness. “I heard somewhere the system doesn’t allow you to bring pets.”

Victor nods. "My Coach told me that someone will be taking care of her," he explains. Then, he gives a sad smile. "I guess I was kind of hoping that the system would get it right the first time and I’d be home with her and my perfect match."

Yuuri’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

They sit in silence for a beat. Yuuri picks some lint off his thigh and Victor looks out the window.

"She would have liked you," Victor speaks up again. "She likes everyone, but she would have _really_ liked you."

Yuuri’s laugh is slightly breathless. "I would have liked to meet her. I never had a pet,” he confesses.

"Not even a goldfish?"

Yuuri shakes his head, feeling warm under the collar as Victor shifts in close. “My friend had three baby goldfish when we were little. I thought that I could help make them bigger by feeding them an entire fish food can.”

Victor laughs. “You’re _adorable,_ ” he fawns, eyes glancing down to their hands only centimeters apart from brushing.

There’s an unspoken wish just at the tip of Yuuri’s tongue, an urge to feel the way Victor’s fingers thread through his own once more.

The cab stops on the road before he can even think of hooking his pinky around Victor’s.

The doors unlock and Victor gives a wry smile. “I guess this is our stop,” he says, opening the door on his side. Yuuri moves his hand into the pocket of his slacks where his Coach resides, giving it a momentary glance.

Nine hours, thirty minutes, twenty-one, twenty, nineteen-

His door opens, and a hand is offered forward.

“Coming?” Victor asks, eyes soft. Yuuri fumbles with his Coach, sticking it back into his pocket.

“O-Oh, yeah,” Yuuri stammers, and takes Victor’s hand.

Victor’s hand is warmer than Yuuri remembers at the restaurant, softer too somehow. His thumb begins to rub circles into the back of Yuuri’s hand, like he’s memorizing the touch of Yuuri’s skin, the weight of Yuuri’s hand in his palm and how it trails after him as they walk.

Victor looks beautiful in the moonlight.

Yuuri only wishes he’d be his past the dawn.

The house is small, quaint, with a golden light just beside the door and a silver panel below it. Yuuri takes it all in — the canary yellow walls, the lone window with the floral print curtains, the rose bush and flower pots that line the pathway they walk on as they approach the cedar wood door.

The cab drives off the second they are both on the porch, disappearing into the darkness.

“Guess we’re all alone out here,” Victor says with a smile verging a little on nervous. Yuuri’s hand squeezes Victor’s on reflex, cheeks growing warm.

The key to enter is both of their thumbprints - Victor’s left and Yuuri’s right. Victor enthuses about the convenience as the door unlocks, while the hand that has still yet to release Yuuri’s gives a squeeze that Yuuri doesn’t want to think too hard on.

It’s warm inside. There’s a fireplace that’s lit, and there’s music playing from the ceiling, floating all around them and welcoming them inside their temporary home for the next few hours.

Yuuri stands in the living room, awkwardly taking off his shoes and unsure where to place them. He listens to the song that’s playing as he takes in his surroundings, and finds there’s something...familiar about it. Like...like he’s heard this song play in his head time and time and time again.

“...Have you heard this song before?” Yuuri asks.

Victor stands at Yuuri’s side and listens.

“...Here, There and Everywhere by The Beatles...from Revolver, 1966,” Victor states.

Yuuri stares at him for a beat.

Then, he applauds.

Victor grins, nudging Yuuri with his elbow. Yuuri rocks with it, laughing. “You knew that off the top of your head?” he asks.

“I’m full of useless facts,” Victor says with a heart-shaped grin. “I could probably talk for hours about all the weird shit I’ve learned in a lifetime.”

And oh, Yuuri starts to think again. And he starts to trace the outline of his Coach in his back pocket.

He looks down at his sock-clad feet, feeling remorseful. Ten hours. That’s such a short time to be with a person. And Victor is making it all the more difficult by giving Yuuri more and more things he wants to experience, to know, to talk and share with each passing second.

Victor takes in Yuuri’s silence, and he gives a glance over his shoulder towards a hallway.

“Should we...explore?” he asks, offering his hand.

Yuuri nods and wordlessly takes it.

They both look at the kitchen and its empty cabinets and fridge. They both wander around the perimeter of the living room and find the control panel that dims the lights, ignites the fireplace, and streams the music playing through the speakers.

They both agree to play with it later, and allow the song to start itself again on repeat.

The hallway leads to the bedroom and _only_ the bedroom. The bathroom is located within the bedroom itself, on the other side of the doorway past the humongous, singular, California King bed.

Of course. Of _fucking_ course.

“It looks comfortable,” Victor says, making small talk when the two of them have been awkwardly staring at the bed for the past few seconds, surely sharing the same thought.

“Yeah...it’s bigger than my bed in my apartment,” Yuuri says with his not-witty observation. He coughs when he doesn’t need to, and shuffles from foot to foot. “Um...I’m...just going to use the bathroom really quick.”

“Oh,” Victor says, relinquishing Yuuri’s hand. “Okay.”

Yuuri nods, tiptoeing around the bed, glancing over his shoulder at Victor lingering in the doorway with every other step.

When Yuuri is fully inside the bathroom with the door shutting quietly behind him, he throws himself into a panic.

He fumbles for his Coach, stumbling to huddle in the corner of the bathroom by the toilet and the bathtub.

“What do I do?!” he hisses at the device through tightly clenched teeth.

“ _You do as you please,_ ” it responds back with faux cheer.

“That is _not_ what I mean,” Yuuri snaps, bringing the Coach to his head and breathing hard through his nose. “I mean...do I...and him...you know?”

“ _I do not._ ”

“Am I supposed to have _sex_ with him, you stupid thing?!” Yuuri clarifies with cheeks hot and voice squeaking in pitch.

“ _You are not supposed to do anything except vacate the premises when your relationship expires._ ”

“...Do people...normally have sex in the first relationship?”

“ _Everything happens for a reason. Relationships are unique and tailored to each individual experience. If both partners consent, then you are free to engage in sexual intercourse if you should desire_.”

Yuuri thinks he desires. Maybe. Probably. Victor _is_ gorgeous and he’s sweet and he’s funny and, okay, maybe Yuuri _is_ a little curious about how Victor is like in bed. If he’s giggly and joking or sensual and romantic.

Plus, he’ll be a damn liar if he says he _isn’t_ interested in seeing Victor’s dick.

“...Let me think about it,” Yuuri whispers to the device.

“ _Do as you please_ ,” the device says back, and resumes the display of the counter.

Nine hours, ten minutes, thirty-one, thirty, twenty-nine, et cetera.

Yuuri sighs.

Rising to his feet and taking a moment to splash his face with some cool water, he then dries his face and steps out of the bathroom.

Victor is nosing through the bedside drawers. His head immediately shoots up with alertness when Yuuri closes the door, then he smiles and gives a little chuckle.

“Uh, they’re pretty well stocked here,” he says, shifting through the drawer’s contents. “Condoms, lube—“ he plucks up a small, box that is half-blue, half-pink— “emergency contraceptive patches.”

He winks. “But, we won’t be needing that for tonight.”

Yuuri tenses, hands going rigid behind his back. “Oh...um...so you...” his eyes flash towards the bed, then to the drawer filled with unmentionables, then to Victor.

Victor stares for a moment, then his eyes go wide with surprise.

“O-Oh, no! No, we - we don’t have to if you don’t _want_ to” Victor clarifies, running a hand through his hair. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We don’t even have to sleep in the same bed if you don’t want to.”

“There’s not another place to sleep,” Yuuri points out.

“There’s a couch in the living room.”

“That little thing? You’ll have to bend in half to even lie comfortably on it,” Yuuri chides. He does a side-step again, then rocks from the heels of his feet to the tips of his toes. “We should just...share the bed and call it a night.”

“...You sure?”

Yuuri nods, his heart a maddening _thump-thump-thump!_ in his chest.

Victor slips his hands into his pockets, nodding. “Okay then...okay.”

They stare at each other for a beat. Then, they stare at the bed for another.

“...I’m going to play with the music for a bit,” Victor says, jutting his thumb out to the hallway. He holds his hand out towards Yuuri. “Any requests?”

It’s weird, how Yuuri just _drifts_ to Victor without delay, without hesitation, till his hand is back in Victor’s grasp.

“Are you going to surprise me with your uncanny knowledge of the Beatles’ catalogue?” Yuuri asks. He’s feeling warm again. He’s feeling like he’s floating.

“Maybe. Tomorrow never knows.”

Yuuri momentarily deflates. “Oh. Yeah. We’ve only got about eight hours-“

“No, that - that’s a song,” Victor explains. “From Revolver. ‘Tomorrow Never Knows’.”

“Oh.” The mild embarrassment heats Yuuri’s cheeks, but a grin breaks out over his face regardless. “You’re kind of a dork.”

Victor laughs that pretty laugh of his, patting his pocket where his Coach is tucked away.

“That’s why I’m here,” he says. "Couldn’t imagine how much more helpless I’d be in relationships if I _weren’t_ in the system."

Yuuri wants to say, _and I’m glad you are._ He wants to say, _I wish you’d be here longer._ He wants to say something, anything.

But he doesn’t.

 

 

 

They spend an hour listening to music in the living room, both seated on the tiny couch with their knees touching. Victor found a bottle of wine and glasses after doing a second rummage through the kitchen, but they barely sip on their drinks through the hour.

At seven hours remaining, Yuuri is the one that quietly suggests they go to bed. Victor agrees with a solemn nod.

The living room dims and the fireplace fizzles out automatically. The music fades into silence, and they head to the bedroom at a lethargic pace, more akin to walking towards the electric chair than the bedroom.

 _But that’s what it is_ , Yuuri thinks as he lies down in the bed, shirt off and slacks undone while Victor gets undressed. _It’s the end of our relationship._

The bed dips with Victor’s weight moments later, and the lights go off.

Yuuri doesn’t sleep. He’s staring at the display on his Coach resting on his bedside drawer. Six hours, fifty eight minutes, ten, nine, eight, seven-

“Yuuri?” Victor’s voice quietly whispers in the dark. Yuuri tears his eyes from the Coach’s display.

“Yeah?” Yuuri responds, turning towards Victor. In the dark, Yuuri sees the sparkle of Victor’s blue eyes. It’s all he can see.

“...I...I had a nice time with you,” Victor says. He sounds strangely shy to admit that. It makes something tickle in Yuuri’s throat from hearing the gentle murmur of Victor’s voice.

“I feel the same way,” Yuuri whispers back, meaning every word oh so truly.

There’s a bout of silence where Yuuri only hears their shared breathing.

And in the darkness, Yuuri’s hand lightly moves against the sheets in the space between them, and it finds Victor’s hands. His fingers tangle themselves around Victor’s, holding tight.

Victor’s eyes twinkle. Yuuri guesses that the other man is smiling right now. Yuuri partially thinks he’s smiling himself, albeit a sad one.

It’s so strange, to go to bed in a relationship with someone and to wake up out of it.

It hurts a little too.

Yuuri closes his eyes and tries to not think about it. As his Coach said, everything happens for a reason. And while Yuuri may not understand the reason now, and while he may not _like_ the reason for why this relationship had to be cut so short, in due time - when he’s with the love of his life, his perfect match - maybe he will.

But in this quiet present, in this household that is not is own, in this bed that isn’t his, he holds onto Victor’s hand and wishes for time to slow.

 

 

 

There are two cabs at the cottage first thing in the morning. They have only five minutes left.

“What a way to start the system!” Victor boasts into the morning sun. His voice is too bright, too cheery, and he’s holding onto his Coach with one hand and holding Yuuri’s hand with the other.

“Yeah...I guess...this is where we go our separate ways,” Yuuri says. He can’t fake being happy. He can’t fake being excited at the prospects of seeing who will be the next person he’ll get. Yuuri hit things off so _well_ with Victor, so _perfectly_ with Victor. He doesn’t understand the need to continue searching when right here, right now, he doesn’t want to see or know anyone else _but_ Victor.

Everything happens for a reason, but what reason is there to pull them apart when the system made such a good choice the first try?

Three minutes remain.

“I’d ask for your phone number, but I’m not sure if we’re allowed to get in contact with past relationships,” Victor says. Yuuri nods, understanding. Everything happens for a reason. But this is happening for a reason Yuuri can’t emotionally comprehend.

Yuuri tries to smile. It feels forced on his lips.

Victor sees through it immediately, if the light squeeze of Yuuri’s hand is anything to go by. “Hey,” he murmurs, “we'll see each other around, won't we?”

He then gestures to the wilderness all around them, then towards the tops of the trees where - just barely - the tall wall that surrounds the Hub and their environment can be viewed. “This place is small. Maybe I’ll run into you at the Hub. Or at the park. I can show you how to skip some rocks. We can go for a walk together around the lake.”

Victor is talking faster now, a little on the frantic side as he moves to put his Coach away in his back pocket in favor of holding Yuuri’s other hand. His eyes flicker all over Yuuri’s face, till they settle on Yuuri’s lips and he pauses midway.

“I-“ Victor starts, but his voice isn’t there anymore. He squeezes Yuuri’s hands, bringing them close to his chest, to his heart. “Can I...should we kiss?”

Yuuri opens his mouth, voice wishing to choke out a ‘yes’ or a ‘please’.

Instead, as his Coach quietly ticks down in his back pocket, Yuuri croaks, “I don’t think we should.”

He turns his gaze away from Victor’s face to avoid seeing the crestfallen expression. In Victor’s hold, Yuuri trembles.

“...Right...okay...” Victor speaks as the Coach counts ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero.

And he lets go.

Both cab doors open simultaneously. At the same time, the cottage’s door makes an audible noise of a lock being placed on, the control panel outlined with a red light that is dim in the harsh sunlight.

Yuuri approaches his cab with heavy feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Victor heading towards his own cab with the same melancholic expression.

They exchange one last glance before they both climb into their respective cabs, and Yuuri sincerely regrets doing so.

Victor smiles at him. He waves goodbye with the hand that was holding Yuuri’s mere seconds ago, and he disappears into the cab.

Yuuri gets inside his cab too, hands still trembling.

He’s not sure who leaves first, but the cab starts moving down the road as soon as Yuuri gets his seatbelt buckled. He peers through the window to see Victor’s cab moving in the opposite direction of where his cab is driving, going up further on the road - further, further further - until he is gone.

Everything happens for a reason.

Yuuri wishes this didn’t happen to him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you ever make mistakes?” Yuuri asks his Coach on a morning jog to the coffee shop.

“ _Negative. Relationships are used to gather data on finding your one ideal match. If a relationship is found to be incompatible, then even that is a learning experience._ ”

“But him and I were _really_ compatible, don’t you think?”

“ _I do not think. I compute._ ”

“You know what I meant,” Yuuri grumbles, then sighs. “What are the odds of me meeting him again, for a longer period of time,” Yuuri asks.

“ _The more relationships you have and more data we possess, the more likely you will find your perfect match. Repeats are illogical._ ”

Yuuri stops in his tracks, catching his breath and finding that it is still getting punched out of him.

“Oh,” he gasps, and hunches over, hands on his knees. He breathes hard, and he sniffles for a second, before standing upright and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“ _Everything happens for a reason, Yuuri. Trust the system,_ ” his Coach responds.

Wordlessly, he nods.

 

* * *

 

 

His Coach informs Yuuri that he has a match three days after his relationship with Victor ended. It’s bittersweet news.

They’re having dinner at a bistro different from the one he and Victor met in. Yuuri has already been seated at a small table cordoned off by potted plants, quietly sipping on a lemonade while he checks his Coach.

“Is that him?” Yuuri asks whenever he sees a singular guy walk into the outdoors dining area. His Coach answers with, “ _I cannot confirm._ ”, Yuuri gets frustrated and then asks the same question again when he sees a different guy. It’s a vicious cycle.

Yuuri whittles his lemonade down till it is half-full before there’s a man that approaches his table, Coach in hand.

He’s handsome, definitely. Pretty green eyes and long eyelashes, dyed blond hair with a brunet undercut and light stubble on his chin. He’s tall, and he’s got the physique of an athlete too. Yuuri feels a flush of nervously warmth move through his body all at once.

“Hello,” the man greets, pulling up a chair.

“ _This is him_ ,” Yuuri’s Coach obnoxiously informs, to which Yuuri promptly stuffs it in his back pocket.

“U-Um, hi.”

Yuuri’s date offers his hand. “Christophe Giacometti,” he introduces, then winks, “but you can call me Chris.”

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Yuuri introduces, better this time around, and shakes Chris’ hand.

 

 

 

They discover their relationship is to last five months as they share an appetizer of finger sandwiches and miniature quiche. Yuuri also learns that this isn’t Chris’ first relationship. It’s his sixth.

“I didn’t think they’d get that high,” Yuuri says in amazement. “...N-Not saying that you’re not pairing material or anything! But - I - um - I just...that’s...that’s just a lot.”

Chris shrugs, dotting the corners of his mouth with his napkins.

“I don’t mind. It’s just how the system is: taking away all the guesswork of who to pick, how long to date, how to break up, et cetera. Waiting for your lucky match is just one of the caveats,” Chris says with a nonchalant shrug, before he leans in closer and dares to rest his hand over Yuuri’s thigh. “Do you think we’re a lucky match?” he asks in a purr of his voice.

Yuuri takes a bite of his quiche. It’s bland.

“Well...we must have some sort of compatibility. I mean, the system wouldn’t just throw two random strangers just to see what happens...right?”

Chris chuckles as he sips from his wine glass. It’s a deeper chuckle than Victor’s, sexier than cute.

“Who knows how _any_ of this works, mon cher,” he says with a wave of his hand. Yuuri nods in agreement, feeling the outline of his Coach in his pocket counting, processing, observing.

 

 

 

Their cottage is different from the one Yuuri shared with Victor. It’s located beside a lake that looks as though it would stretch out towards infinity if it wasn’t for the wall. The moon reflects nicely off of the water. Yuuri thinks about skipping rocks across the surface to distort its image.

Both use their thumbprints and enter, once again welcomed with the warmth of a burning fireplace and music playing. Not the Beatles, just violins. Yuuri is for a moment partially grateful, but then becomes discouraged just a moment later as he lightly traces his fingers along the sea-foam green walls.

“I’m going to take a shower if you don’t mind?” Chris asks, taking off his jacket to drape over the back of the couch - this one bigger than the one in Victor and Yuuri’s cottage. Yuuri nods, wrapping arms around himself, and stands in the corner to think.

Chris heads down the hallway to where Yuuri presumes is the one bedroom with the single bed and bath. A few moments later, he hears the sound of running water, and Chris singing.

Yuuri withdraws his Coach from his pocket, glancing down at the timer.

Five months.

There has to be a reason for Yuuri staying with Chris longer while Victor was just a moment in time. There has to be. Trust the system, trust the algorithm.

Yuuri wanders to the kitchen and sees that its stocked with food and drinks this time around. He pours himself a small glass of wine, then awkwardly, thinks to pour one for Chris too in case he wants it.

He sits down by the fire and watches the way little flecks of heat crackle in the hearth. Is Victor in a relationship now too? Is his five months? Shorter? Longer?

Did he already get paired with his perfect match?

Yuuri sits, sits, drinks some wine, and sits.

By the time he polishes off his glass, Chris is leisurely making his way into the living room in a towel. _Only_ a towel.

Yuuri’s eyes find interest with the way the water starts moving down Chris’ chest instead of the flames.

“Shower’s all yours if you want it,” Chris says, gesturing with his thumb to the hallway behind him. Yuuri dumbly nods, still looking at Chris’ chest.

Chris laughs after the awkward pause, and he approaches Yuuri till he is standing a few inches away from where Yuuri is seated, the towel loosening with his movement.

“Just so you know,” Chris starts, “I think we should have sex on the first night together.”

Yuuri’s jaw goes slack.

Chris rubs the back of his neck, bracing his other hand on his hip while somehow holding his towel in place. “It’s just that - look, I’ve been at this thing for a while, and the longer the relationship is, the more awkward it is for us to dance around the subject of us being sexually compatible. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. If you _never_ want to, that’s fine. But, I already consented with my Coach so, the offer’s on the table.”

Yuuri swallows, withdrawing his Coach from his pocket again.

Sure enough, he sees on the screen that Chris did consent, and all that needs to be done is for Yuuri to give his.

Chris nods his head, then stretches his arms over his head with a yawn. “Is there any fruit?” he asks, meandering over to the kitchen. “That rabbit food my Coach ordered for me wasn’t all that _extravagant._ ”

It’s five months.

It’s five months and it’s no guarantee that Yuuri will ever see Victor again.

And it’s not like Chris _isn’t_ attractive.

Yuuri looks over his shoulder as Chris fixes a bowl of fruit, at the way his back muscles flex when he reaches for the glass of wine Yuuri poured for him. He inspects it, then takes a sip, turning to Yuuri with a sweet little smile.

It's only five months.

It shouldn't be bad.

He can do this.

Everything happens for a reason.

Chris takes a seat beside Yuuri, with his wine glass and a small glass bowl of cut strawberries, cantelope, and grapes.

"You want some?" Chris offers, holding a strawberry out for Yuuri to take a bite out of, red and juicy.

Five months.

Five months.

Yuuri glances down at his Coach in his palm, at the consent screen he needs to verify.

He raises his finger and swipes downwards, checking his box and submitting.

The Coach flashes a humble green, before resuming the clock display.

There is quiet.

Yuuri looks at Chris through his eyelashes, suddenly shy, cheeks beginning to pinken. Chris offers the strawberry again, a soft twinkle in his eyes Yuuri doesn't recall being there before, but doesn't think too hard about.

He bites into the strawberry and tastes its sweet juice, and for a moment in time he's sure won't last, Yuuri forces the memory of Victor out of his mind.

 

 

 

Christophe fucks Yuuri with such care, taking his time since they have it. They have so much time.

The bedroom has a window that allows only a sliver of moonlight to stream over them, illuminating parts of skin as they move against the sheets.

Yuuri is on his back, legs spread. He has one hand around the back of Chris’ neck, while the other wants to hold Chris’ hand, but fists the bedsheets instead.

It feels good. Chris is thick and he rocks into Yuuri with control in his hips, with experience. He relishes the drag of his cock as he pulls out, till only the tip is sheathed, and then pushes forward till he is balls deep and Yuuri is gasping for air.

Chris’ voice is deeper now, huskier, his syllables dripping with lust and want. His lips are soft against the shell of Yuuri’s ear, kissing it lightly and not saying much of anything as he thrusts forward, in and out.

Then, he kisses down along Yuuri’s jaw, drifting closer, closer, _closer-_

Yuuri gasps, and the hand that clutches at the bedsheet shoots up to stop Chris from kissing him pliantly on the mouth.

Chris stops mid thrust, blinking at Yuuri with slight confusion.

"I-" Yuuri starts, and it’s embarrassing how squeaky his voice is, thoroughly fucked and with a tremble. "I...don’t think we should...kiss...you know..."

He averts his eyes to where his cock is still hard and flushed against his stomach, leaking profusely.

Chris looks at Yuuri for a moment, expression unreadable in the dark. Then, he smiles against Yuuri’s palm and pulls his hand away to give a soft kiss to the inner part of Yuuri’s wrist.

"Saving true love’s kiss for your perfect match?" Chris muses, then nods. "It’s okay...can I kiss your face then?"

Yuuri swallows, then nods.

Chris does so, resuming his agonizingly slow pace as he peppers butterfly kisses on Yuuri’s forehead, his brow, his cheek and his chin.

"Can I kiss you here?" Chris asks against Yuuri’s clavicle, lightly grazing his teeth against the heated flesh. It’s hard to do so with Chris’ head just below his chin, but Yuuri nods, and Chris kisses that spot once, twice, three times, in sync with his thrusts.

"And here?" Chris asks, against Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri chokes out a whimper when Chris snaps his hips forward unexpectedly hard, and he thinks he can see stars. Yuuri nods, though he feels his head going slack, his body beginning to melt.

Chris kisses his shoulders, his clavicle again, and down Yuuri’s chest.

"Here?" Chris asks, mouth pressed against Yuuri’s heart, while Yuuri’s chest rises and falls with sudden intensity.

" _Yes,_ " Yuuri breathes, and that must be the magic word because Chris smiles into his skin. He kisses down Yuuri’s sternum, moving to take a dusky nipple into his mouth and roll it with his tongue and _oh, yes._

Yuuri arches up into Chris, both of his hands holding Chris by his neck as the pace becomes brutal, harder, _faster._ Yuuri makes embarrassing little hiccups that get fucked out of him, climbing in pitch and sound.

Chris keeps kissing Yuuri’s body, asking for permission just before he presses his lips against Yuuri’s skin. It makes the spot kissed flush red with heat, itch with desire. Yuuri’s babble of sounds evolves into chanting ‘yes, yes,  _yes_ ’ with each kiss, each suck, each thrust.

Yuuri comes against his and Chris’ stomach without being touched, Chris’ lips against against his ear. Yuuri convulses with it, tears burning at the corners of his eyes when the orgasm hits him, and Chris fucks him through it. Yuuri’s hands drop to hold Chris by his shoulders, blunt nails digging into his skin.

He’s weightless.

He’s floating.

He’s gone.

 

 

 

In the darkness, when the air still smells of sex and Chris is asleep after a shared shower, Yuuri reaches for his hand.

Chris’ hand is bigger than Yuuri’s, his fingers rough around the joints, and angled in a way that doesn’t make it easy for Yuuri to just slide his palm into Chris’ grasp. It’s warm, but it’s not the same kind of warmth Yuuri felt with Victor, that secure warmth.

Chris stirs in his sleep and Yuuri momentarily goes rigid at being caught. Then, Chris moves his hand out of Yuuri’s hold, and moves it to cradle the back of Yuuri’s head.

He brings Yuuri close and kisses his forehead, smiling into it. Then, his arm curls around Yuuri’s naked waist, and he goes back to sleep.

Yuuri doesn’t make an attempt to move out from Chris’ grasp. He only stares at the ceiling above.

Five months.

Minus one day.

 

* * *

 

 

They fall into a basic routine:

Chris wakes up before Yuuri, prepares breakfast for them both, and goes for a morning jog. When he gets back, Yuuri is usually awake and stumbling through the kitchen in frumpy sweats and dried spittle at the corners of his mouth.

They then break off into their own personal schedules, doing their own personal things. And Yuuri realizes one month into the relationship, as he wanders through the Hub, he and Chris don’t do much together aside from eating and fucking.

Would things had been different if he were still with Victor?

Yuuri sighs, pausing momentarily in front of a music store.

Everything happens for a reason. He needs to let it go.

But it’s just so hard.

 

* * *

 

 

"What type of music do you like?" Yuuri asks with a mouthful of toothpaste, hair a mess from the quickie in the living room. They’re pushing a month and two weeks, and he’s starting to feel guilty that he doesn’t know much about Chris, if not a lover than at least a roommate with benefits.

Chris is shaving, dotting his chin with foam.

"R&B, jazz and a little bit of soul," Chris answers, then chuckles. "My last relationship, we had stuff from the nineties playing while we were having sex and it was just-" Chris sighs, a little bit lovesick but filled with unguarded emotion that Yuuri hasn’t seen from the man since they’ve started their relationship.

He momentarily pauses to shave the underside of his chin, where it was getting a little bit scruffy. Yuuri doesn’t have any complaints about Chris’ facial hair. He likes the way it tickles when Chris kisses down his stomach and between his thighs.

"Sorry," Chris says after he splashes his face with water, "talking about past relationships was the thing that pissed me off about my third relationship and I’m doing it right now-"

"N-No, its fine," Yuuri stammers. He spits into his wash basin, wiping his mouth with a small blue towel. "Um...your first relationship, how long did it last?"

"Two weeks," Chris answers, patting at his face with a towel.

Yuuri hums. “And...did you like it?”

Chris gives a sigh, discarding the dirty towel into the laundry bin by the doorframe. “Honestly? It felt like I was in a _sitcom_ dating him. Just...we were on two opposite spectrums of personality and fought about _everything_. I was practically running to my cab when our relationship ended.”

“Oh...I hope I’m not bringing up bad memories-“

Chris waves Yuuri’s sentiment away, wrapping an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders to hug him to his side. He smells of fresh lemon squeeze and warm orange peel, bright and creating an energetic stir beneath Yuuri’s skin.

“It’s alright. He was a sad, miserable little man and I can’t imagine the sucker the system decides will be his ‘one true partner’ on his pairing day, but he was my first. You never forget your first relationship,” Chris says, and gives a playful little push of Yuuri’s nose.

Yuuri smiles with downcast eyes. “No, you don’t.”

 

* * *

 

 

Chris is nice.

He’s handsome, he’s suave, and he’s encouraging. He likes to dance and he has a tongue for sparkling, red, white, _every_ type of wine there is. He enjoys fruit, but strawberries are his favorite. He has a cat named Madonna and he misses her dearly.

Chris hasn’t fallen in love with any of the relationships he’s had so far, and he tells Yuuri so when they’re two and a half months in.

“It’s all probably bullshit anyways,” Chris admits with a smile that doesn’t seem full and real, carefully constructed like a well designed shield. Yuuri knows that Chris has a guard up around him, something that keeps him from getting lost in Yuuri’s body and the sensuality of their trysts.

Yuuri knows he has a guard of his own, so he doesn’t bother to point it out.

Maybe, Yuuri thinks after they’ve turned in for the night - facing opposite each other - maybe they could have loved each other. Under different timing, different circumstances, maybe.

Just maybe.

 

* * *

 

 

They get invited to a pairing event. There’s only two weeks left in their relationship.

“Have you ever been to one before?” Yuuri asks Chris as they ride together in the cab. He’s wearing a beige suit and opted to wear his hair down with glasses this time around. Not like he has anyone to impress.

Chris nods, adjusting the cuff links on his lavender suit.

“They’re _terribly_ boring. I would probably have more fun getting my dick stuck in a hollow tree than going to one of these pairing events,” he says with a dry wit that Yuuri smiles at.

The venue the cab drops them off at is swarming with people, the path to follow illuminated by paper lanterns. They all walk in pairs, hand in hand, down the stone path and through the woods. Yuuri holds Chris’ hand halfway through the walk, before he switches and hooks his arm around Chris’ instead.

Chris doesn’t notice the change. And even if he did, he’s kind enough not to question why.

The path leads to a clearing where there is a long, white table decorated with finger foods and liquid refreshments. To the right, there are rows of white chairs all facing a small platform, where the wooden arch above it has two overlapping circles symbolizing rings.

The crowd makes their way to find a seat. Chris leads Yuuri to two chairs in the third row.

The couple eventually make their way onto the platform with loud fanfare and confetti. Yuuri can see their names on the backdrop of the platform they stand on: **LEO & GUANG-HONG**. They’re young, and they look _exactly_ like the stupidly in love couple the system uses for adverts. The ones that made Yuuri secretly wish for that kind of love himself.

They keep it brief: Leo confesses how much he adores Guang-Hong and Guang-Hong confesses how much he adores Leo. It’s a back and forth banter between them, while the rest of the crowd are passive observers. They giggle and laugh and Guang-Hong plays with Leo’s hair. Beside Yuuri, Chris mutters under his breath that he thinks he’s getting an ulcer from watching.

“We’d like to thank you all for coming to our pairing day,” Guang-Hong _finally_ addresses to the crowd. “And I just want to say, I know that while some of you may have had your doubts about the system, it _really_ works,” Guang-Hong confesses, holding onto Leo’s hand, making it look so natural and perfect. “I would have never found Leo if it weren’t for it. And I’m...I’m _so_ happy that he’s mine, regardless of how long it took for us to meet.”

Leo smiles at Guang-Hong like he is his sun, his moon, his stars, his everything.

Yuuri doesn’t know if he’ll look at someone the same way Leo looks at Guang-Hong. He doesn’t know if someone will look at _him_ the same way Leo looks at Guang-Hong.

The happy couple share a kiss for the crowd, and the reception officially begins.

Everyone mingles together but at the same time, only in pairs. Yuuri gravitates towards the food table at once with Chris on his arm. The cab arrived at their cottage before Yuuri could manage to snag a cheese stick or some crackers for the road and he is _starving._

“What is all this stuff?” Yuuri says as he starts inspecting each morsel one by one.

“That,” Chris points to a platter to their right, “looks like figs with bacon, chili powder, and paprika.”

Yuuri scrunches his nose. “Doesn’t sound appetizing.”

“You can _never_ go wrong with something covered in bacon, mon cher,” Chris chides.

Yuuri thinks he would have laughed then, and maybe took a fig to try and see if tastes as weird as it sounds.

But then there are a pair of arms that wrap around his midsection to hug him against someone’s front, warm, secure, _familiar._

“Hi!” Victor’s voice floats into Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri’s mouth falls open in shock.

He turns, still in the person’s grasp and yep, it’s Victor. It’s Victor, it’s _Victor._

Victor is smiling, his eyes are twinkling. He feels warm and steady against Yuuri, and Yuuri isn’t sure if its his own heart or Victor’s that he feels beating in a sped up rhythm against his chest.

“You’re looking pretty good,” Victor compliments, rocking Yuuri from side to side with lazy twists. Yuuri’s hands hold Victor’s biceps, going with his movements.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Yuuri manages to say, cheeks hurting from his smile, but it’s a sweet burn. “What do you think about bacon-wrapped figs?”

“I think that sounds both delicious and terrifying,” Victor says, thumb rubbing circles against Yuuri’s hip. “You don’t peg me as the ‘eats strange things’ kind of person.”

"Well, I mean," Yuuri starts, wrapping arms around Victor’s shoulders, "I once ate grass when I was a kid, so maybe I’m doomed from the start."

"That’s not strange, everyone’s done that. And if they say they didn’t, they’re either lying to you, or they ate something even _weirder_ and _grosser._ Like...like dog vomit."

Yuuri’s eyes widen. "Don’t tell me that _you_ -"

"No, no, no!" Victor laughs, and oh god, Yuuri missed that sound _so much._ Their bodies are flushed together, hearts beating against each other as Victor continues, "I used to be - well, still kinda am - morbidly curious about things when I was a kid, and I stuck my fingers in a lot of things that I _really shouldn’t have_ but-"

Chris audibly clears his throat. It has the same effect of someone pouring a bucket of ice cubes down the back of Yuuri’s shirt.

Yuuri jumps away from Victor, accidentally bumping into the food table and spilling some figs on the grass. Victor immediately reaches out to steady him, eyes partially worried.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Yuuri nods, straightening out his suit and shirt, before he awkwardly places his hands behind his back.

“Um...I...” he looks to Chris, who is looking at Victor with slight curiosity. ”Um, this is my...date.”

Victor now looks to Chris, eyes widening momentarily in surprise like he didn’t even notice Chris is standing there.

“Oh...your date...” Victor says, then nods. “Of course. Yeah. I - I actually came with my date too.”

And now it’s Yuuri’s turn to feel awkward and surprised.

“Oh, um, are they-” he glances around the area for someone that is standing alone, since no one came with Victor to the snack table.

Victor helps in seeking out the missing party, and he does so with a rather feeble point in the direction of a man chugging down a flute of champagne with extraordinary speeds. When he finishes that one, he snatches another from a passing waiter and downs that as well.

Oh.

Hmm.

Yuuri sucks in a breath. “Um, I’m...well..I...” Really, he doesn’t even know the first thing to say.

“Yeah,” Victor says to Yuuri’s confounded silence, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “He’s...something...”

“How long do you have?” Yuuri asks, and he doesn’t mean to sound so anxious about it.

“Three more months...our relationship is nine total.”

Yuuri’s heart tries its best to stay afloat.

Victor forces on a smile. “And...how about you two?”

“...Two more weeks,” Yuuri whispers. Victor bristles, then nods.

There’s a loud clang of glassware breaking and all turn in the direction of the sound. Victor’s date is slumped against the table, broken shards of a dropped glass at their feet, and pushing their red hair out of their face as they vomit in a bouquet of white roses.

Yuuri sees the disgusted glares turned towards the date. He also sees them turned towards Victor as well, and he can’t stave off the bit of anger sparking hot in his chest at the judgement.

“I - I should get him,” Victor says, laughing for no reason in particular. He gives a momentary glance to Chris. “Nice to meet you,” he says though he didn’t say a word to Chris before, and with one last longing glance at Yuuri, he leaves.

The crowd begins to move again as Leo and Guang-Hong make their way through, ignorant of the scene before them, too lost in each other’s eyes. Victor disappears out of Yuuri’s line of sight, and soon Chris is giving his arm a light squeeze, tilting his head towards the flow of the crowd.

“We should get moving,” he says. Yuuri nods, allowing Chris to lead him into the mix, keeping his eyes peeled for Victor.

They walk in the procession, huddled together like sheep in formal clothing. Everyone is laughing. Everyone is cheering. Everyone is happy.

Yuuri doesn’t see Victor amongst the faces in the crowd.

He’s lost him again.

 

* * *

 

 

“So he was your first,” Chris guesses aloud when they go to bed that night.

Yuuri is turned on his side, not looking in Chris’ direction. He hunches his shoulders to his ears. “Yes,” he says.

Silence.

Then, Chris wraps an arm around Yuuri’s waist and pulls him against his front. He kisses Yuuri’s hair, and it’s tender.

“Mon cher,” Chris murmurs into the crown of Yuuri’s locks, feeling in his voice amid the sleepiness, “this system is going to eat you alive.”

 

* * *

 

 

Their relationship ends at dawn.

Chris kisses Yuuri’s forehead, a soft and gentle peck, as his way of saying goodbye. Yuuri hugs him, and he wishes that his body will allow him to do more, but he feels too rigid to move anymore than what he is doing now.

Their cabs depart at the same time, speeding off to their own destinations.

Five minutes into the ride, Yuuri’s Coach announces that he has another match.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri is the first man the system has ever set up with Jean-Jacques Leroy. They meet at a diner northwest of the bistro and are served waffles a quarter till midnight.

Their relationship is one week.

Jean-Jacques goes by JJ. He likes fashion, he likes style, he likes art, and he likes the way how Yuuri holds his fork and knife to cut his waffle into asymmetrical pieces.

Yuuri becomes thoroughly weirded out.

“It’s all an aesthetic thing! It’s not a kink. I’m pretty sure it’s not a kink,” JJ protests against Yuuri’s blank stare. He holds his hands like they are a picture frame and Yuuri is a piece of art in his vision. “You just..got a look.”

“...Like what?”

“Like, I don’t know.” JJ’s tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth when he thinks. It’s kind of cute. “You’re too subtle for JJ Style, but I got to admit there’s something kinda hot underneath all of—“ he gestures in all of Yuuri’s direction—“ _that._ ”

Yuuri isn’t sure if that’s an insult or a compliment. He settles with just another blank stare.

“Do you do modeling?” JJ asks. There’s cogs turning in his head. Yuuri can see it in his boyish blue eyes.

“No.”

JJ nods. “Yeah...yeah, I’m going to buy you some clothes,” he decides, and goes back to eating dinner.

 

 

 

They get a cottage with a view of the mountains and where the air is particularly chilly. Yuuri hurries inside when they get the door unlocked, breathing in the warmth of the fireplace currently lit, the sounds of harps playing through the speakers. The walls are a cotton blue this time, the carpeting soft and plush underneath Yuuri’s feet.

Consent is given after they’ve both unwinded from the evening, sitting on the couch with a space between them, watching the flames as entertainment. Once Yuuri’s Coach pings that both parties are in agreement to intercourse, JJ closes the gap, nervous excitement in his eyes as he puckers his lips.

Yuuri stops JJ from leaning in any closer. "I don’t do kissing," Yuuri states. Then, hearing his voice - the flat, distant tone - he averts his eyes. "I...I don’t do kissing on the mouth at least...personal beliefs."

Like Chris, JJ stares at Yuuri with bewilderment. And also like Chris, he eventually nods in acceptance.

 

 

 

JJ fucks with enthusiasm. Sloppy, uncoordinated enthusiasm.

It’s been more foreplay than actual penetration, so it’s not like Yuuri needs all that much for him to come. JJ himself already came twice: once when Yuuri sucked his cock and the other when he _finally_ managed to push inside of Yuuri’s heat, tighter than any of the women he’s slept with in past relationships.

"How is it?" JJ asks as he thrusts in and out, off rhythm and a little manic-like.

Yuuri’s eyes are fluttering. "You...you could use your hips a little more," he breathes, both hands fisting the sheets.

"Hips," JJ repeats, and he starts fucking Yuuri with a circular swivel of his hips, like he’s churning butter with his dick. Yuuri’s eyes roll back for a completely different reason.

"Maybe let me be on top?" Yuuri suggests, pushing at JJ’s shoulder. JJ nods, because apparently he too realizes the hip thing isn’t working.

They switch positions, JJ lying on his back and Yuuri straddling him. He takes JJ in his hand and gives a few leisurely pumps. JJ is not as thick as Chris was, but he’s longer, reaching spots inside of Yuuri that make his toes curl but not having the finesse to do a damn thing about it.

Yuuri sinks down on JJ’s cock with a tremble. JJ grips Yuuri by his hips hard enough to leave a bruise, a low gurgle rising from his chest. Yuuri moves, rocking his hips to get a good feel of JJ inside of him, then settling into a rhythm he can get off on.

The sound of the mattress squeaking, the headboard hitting up against the baby blue walls, the slap of JJ’s balls against Yuuri’s ass, Yuuri loses himself in the sounds of sex. JJ comes again for the third time that night; Yuuri feels JJ throb inside of him before JJ hisses a ‘fu- _uuck_ ’ through clenched teeth.

Yuuri keeps moving, keeps bouncing himself on JJ’s cock as it softens. He wraps a hand around his own cock, still hard and an angry red at the tip, still leaking pre-come and making a slick mess.

"I want to come," Yuuri pants, frustration veiled through his lidded eyes and flushed cheeks.

Though completely fucked out and just lying there, JJ snorts.

"Then just come," he says with a stupid grin. He moves his hands up Yuuri’s quivering thighs, pushing Yuuri’s hand away to wrap his own around his cock. "I liked it when my last partner did this."

JJ begins to jerk Yuuri off with an unfounded skill, twisting his wrist, stopping and slowing in a rhythm that immediately rushes Yuuri to the edge and then keeps him teetering on it. With his other hand, JJ lifts Yuuri off his softened cock, tracing hearts and the letter ‘J’ at the cleft of his ass.

Yuuri comes with a shout, and it’s hard enough to spill out over JJ’s chest and clavicle. He goes boneless, and collapses onto JJ with all of his weight.

JJ wraps his arms around Yuuri, rolling them both to their side. He’s smiling. He’s leaning in closer. He’s-

Yuuri puts his hand against JJ’s mouth. JJ sighs with some dissatisfaction.

"So you really don’t kiss people?" JJ asks against Yuuri's hand.

"I...I just don’t see the point of it when we’re only together for a short amount of time," Yuuri answers, when really, he means, ‘I don’t want to give it hope. I don’t want to put myself fully into something that isn’t mine forever.’

Neither of them move after JJ gets up to discard his condom. They stink and the sheets smell of their tryst, but neither get up for a shower. After a moment’s pause, Yuuri takes JJ’s hand.

It doesn’t fit right in his grasp either.

"Did you want to go another round?" JJ asks in interest, squeezing Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri releases it, shaking his head and turning on his side away from JJ.

"It’s nothing," he mutters, because it truly isn’t, "goodnight."

 

 

 

Seven days later, Yuuri departs from JJ with a chaste hug and several bags of clothing so he can enhance himself and become ‘one with JJ Style’, whatever the hell that means.

His Coach pings for another relationship in a matter of seconds.

 

* * *

 

 

Georgi Popovich is Yuuri’s fourth relationship. They meet at a bar and sip on cocktails while smooth jazz plays in the background. He’s...attractive, in some weird, conventional way. His eyes are a pretty blue, not eager like JJ or breathtaking like Victor’s, but they look nice. Plain. Simple.

The relationship is slated to last a whopping 48 hours.

Their cottage is the same as all the other cottages are, located in a secluded area as all the cottages are, but this time with a grey and moody color palette. Yuuri gives his Coach his consent, and heads to the bathroom for a quick shower. As he towels off, his Coach announces that Georgi too has given his consent for intercourse.

Yuuri kind of hates how it feels like he’s going through the motions. He kind of hates how he lies on the bed first, leading Georgi close by his belt loop and dragging his palm down the front of Georgi’s slacks to get a bulge to start rising. He kind of hates that the shield is getting bigger, to where it doesn’t feel like it’s him that’s lying on the bed, sucking Georgi’s cock as he stands.

He kind of hates this system.

Something wet falls onto Yuuri’s hand as he transitions from sucking Georgi off to a half-ass handjob.

He looks up and sees Georgi is crying.

Yuuri freaks out.

"W-What is it?" he stammers, sitting on his knees with alarm. His Coach wouldn’t have pinged Georgi’s consent if he didn’t really check it off, and it would have pinged if Georgi revoked his consent as well.

Georgi wipes at his eyes, sniffling pathetically with his cock still out. "Just...I was thinking about Anya," he whimpers. Yuuri blinks.

He remembers vaguely over dinner that he is Georgi’s third relationship and that Anya was his first. Their story - at least from how Georgi paints it - is almost like Yuuri’s and Victor’s. They hit it off on the first night and only had twelve hours together. They didn’t have sex, and Georgi anguishes over losing his one true love every waking moment of his life.

He knows that he’ll never see her again, because he went to Anya’s Pairing Event while in his previous relationship, just another face amid thousands.

"How could she choose to go to him?!" Georgi cries, curled up in a fetal position. "How could she choose not to be awoken to what was clearly true love between us! How could she be so blind?!"

Yuuri rubs at his eyes, tired.

"It’s all an algorithm," he murmurs against the side of his pillow. "They take the information from the relationship to better calculate your perfect match. Everything happens for a reason."

It’s weird. The more Yuuri says that, the less he understands about it.

"But I loved her," Georgi protests, voice smaller. He brings his hand to his chest. "I felt it. I loved her and she...she left me."

Yuuri doesn’t say anything in response.

He turns onto his side and gets underneath the sheets. "It’s all just number crunching," he says with a sigh, and switches off the lights. 

 

 

 

They don’t exchange words when their time is up. Both of them just quietly vacate the cottage and get into their respective cabs.

Two days pass. Yuuri spends his time alone in solitude at a river skipping rocks. They all sink on the first throw.

" _You have a match_ ," his Coach informs as he walks back to his living quarters.

"What if I don’t show up?"

" _Failure to comply will result in banishment._ "

"What if I want to get banished?"

His Coach doesn’t respond.

Yuuri slows to a complete stop on the sidewalk, squinting his eyes at the clouds, the sky and the yellow sun. The breeze is cool, moving through his hair and over his skin, carrying with it the smell of springtime.

Yuuri brings his Coach to his lips. He sighs.

"...Where do we meet?"

 

* * *

 

 

It’s the same restaurant he and Victor ate at the first time.

It’s the same booth they ate at too.

And the moment Victor quietly strolls through the entryway into the dining area, dressed in a blue navy suit and black tie, Yuuri feels like time has rewound and froze.

"Yuuri?" Victor gasps in surprise. He approaches Yuuri slowly, timidly, like perhaps he’s in a dream somehow and he might wake up at any second. Yuuri shoots up from his spot at the booth, clanging the table on his way up to his feet. People look at him, but all Yuuri sees is Victor, Victor, _Victor._

Victor closes the distance with a hug, squeezing Yuuri tight.

Yuuri goes boneless in Victor’s arms, in Victor’s warmth.

"I didn’t think I’d see you again," Victor chuckles against Yuuri’s ear, nuzzling his cheek against the side of Yuuri’s head. He guides then back down to sit at their booth, and his hand immediately goes to hold Yuuri’s.

Yuuri gives it a squeeze. "I didn’t think so either," he says, holding his Coach in his other hand. "This isn’t a mistake right?"

" _This is not a mistake_."

"I thought you said ‘repeats would be illogical’," Yuuri retorts in a mechanical voice.

" _Even in returning to past relationships, there can always be something learned. The system takes every step necessary to result in finding your ultimate match_ ," the Coach responds back.

Victor whistles. "I guess you’re tough to shop for," he teases, to which Yuuri gives a playful scoff. There’s a moment they take to just look at each other, at the way the dim lights make their eyes sparkle the most.

Victor’s hand squeezes Yuuri’s again, like he still needs to check that Yuuri is here.

Yuuri squeezes back just as tight.

Dinner is served - pasta with butternut squash for Victor and a grilled salmon filet with red skin potatoes for Yuuri. It’s not Yuuri’s favorite dish, but it’s not bad. He cuts into the fish with his fork with mild enthusiasm, a partial wish to feed Victor some of it when he sees the other man looking.

Maybe tonight.

Maybe.

"How has the system been treating you?" Victor asks. It looks like he’s struggling to neatly twirl the pasta noodles around his fork with his left hand, but he’s also not letting go of Yuuri’s with his right.

Yuuri chews and swallows before he speaks. "It’s...been...something."

"Something good? Bad? Stupid?" Victor’s eyes widen with faux surprise. "Have you discovered the system’s secret underground cult?"

"No, not yet," Yuuri says, bumping his knee with against Victor’s as he smiles. "Maybe the system _is_  having trouble figuring out my perfect match. I’ve been getting bounced around lately, and the time keeps getting shorter and shorter. It doesn’t even feel like I’m getting to know the person. Just a quick fuck and calling it a day."

Victor nods. "Maybe that’s for the better then. Getting stuck with someone long term when you’re not attracted to them isn’t exactly peaches and cream," he says, pushing around his food on his plate. He then looks to Yuuri, at Yuuri’s lips and how he has the bottom lip pulled between his teeth. "Has anyone kissed you yet?"

Yuuri swallows. "...No..."

Victor gives an audible swallow. "...Would it be alright if I kissed you now?...Or, at least, later when my breath doesn’t taste like butternut squash?"

Yuuri laughs, but he chokes it out of his lungs.

"...I want to," Yuuri whispers, voice a miserable croak in his throat. "I thought about it a lot. I thought about how sad I would have been if I kissed you then, and had to go through all those other relationships and thinking they wouldn’t ever compare. And I thought about how horrible I felt that I _didn’t_ kiss you, because I’m stupid and I have a bunch of stupid little fears that I can’t get my head out of."

Victor scoots in closer, his other hand going to cup Yuuri’s cheek.

"So why can’t you kiss me now?" He sounds confused. He sounds hurt. It stings like pins in Yuuri’s chest.

Yuuri’s gaze moves down to the Coach on the table, at its blank screen that will eventually display the prompt for them to tap and see the expiry date.

What if it’s another ten hours?

What if it’s less?

What if this is the last time Yuuri sees Victor?

What if he becomes like Georgi, forced to watch his beloved flee over the wall with their one true love, never to be seen or heard from again?

He’s shaking under Victor’s touch, and the corners of his eyes grow wet.

"I can’t," he whispers. "I can’t - I can’t give you that power, I _can’t_ -"

There’s a quiet clatter of silverware the cuts Yuuri off. Dessert is dropped off at their table - two slices of chocolate cake - by their waiter. They stare at them disapprovingly, along with the other patrons in the restaurant.

Yuuri keeps his mouth shut, lips twisting in an ugly grimace.

It’s quiet between them. Yuuri moves Victor’s hand away from his face so he can properly wipe at the corners of his eyes. He sniffles, but doesn’t allow any tears to fall. He’s already causing a scene, he doesn’t want to make things worse.

Glancing at the Coach, Yuuri gives a broken little laugh. "I’m already ruining dinner and we didn’t even check the expiry date yet," he says to Victor’s still expression, and reaches for the device.

Victor’s hand grabs to his wrist. "Wait," he says. It sounds like a beg.

Yuuri stiffens under Victor’s touch, but pauses. Victor licks his lips, glancing down at his own Coach. "We...we don’t have to look at it," he says, urgent. "Coach, we don’t _have_ to look at it, right?"

" _You don’t have to do anything_ ," the Coach answers, purposefully vague.

"Since it didn’t feed the banishment line, I’m guessing that we won’t be breaking any rules by not looking at the expiry date," Victor surmises. He holds Yuuri’s face again, tenderly like he’s afraid Yuuri will break. "We don’t have to look. We don’t have to know. I don’t _want_ to know. I don’t want to spend a relationship waiting for the day it ends. I’ve done that twice already."

Yuuri looks at his Coach resting on the table. "But-"

"Yuuri, _please_ ," Victor says, and it’s so strange to hear his voice crack, "I don’t want to know. I don’t want _us_ to know. Can’t we...can’t we just see what happens?" He smiles, but it’s half-sad. "Can’t we just...keep it a surprise?"

Yuuri sniffs, wringing his napkin between his fist, his knuckles whitening.

"I’m not a fan of surprises," he admits.

Victor kisses Yuuri’s brow.

"Please," he whispers. "Please, don’t look at it. Promise me."

The eyes of the patrons are watching them. The world is watching.

Yuuri bites his lower lip, easing his cheek into Victor’s touch.

He nods once, and puts the Coach back into his coat pocket.

 

 

 

Their cab ride feels slower now, in this quiet solace. Yuuri is curled up against Victor’s side, his head resting against the crevice of Victor’s neck. The stars are glowing brighter in the night sky, little dots of light in the vastness of space and time. In the distance, the wall surrounding the Hub casts its shadow over the trees.

"Do you think there’s anything out there?" Yuuri asks. "Like...like is there any point to all of this?"

Victor squeezes Yuuri’s hand as his answer. For now, it ceases Yuuri’s line of questioning.

The cottage they arrive at is the same one they used before. When they enter, it’s the same warmth, the same canary yellow walls, the same sound of the Beatles floating in the air. It feels like Yuuri’s coming home.

"Hopefully there’s something to eat this time around," Victor groans, leading Yuuri into the kitchen to check the cupboards. They’re stocked with breads, boxes, cans, bottles. Yuuri knows there’s usually just enough stocked in the pantries and refrigerator to last the entire duration of the relationship. So, he knows they won’t be out of here in an hour; there’s too much food.

Two days? Three? A month? A year?

"You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?" Victor questions. Yuuri jumps in his spot, guiltily averting his eyes to the ground.

They stand in the kitchen for a moment, before Victor sighs and reaches into his back pocket. "Okay, we can do it like this," he suggests, taking out his Coach.

He releases Yuuri’s hand to open the top cupboard. Then, he takes the device and flings it onto the top shelf, Yuuri hearing the device loudly clang against the back.

Victor smiles to himself, then to Yuuri. "Out of sight, out of mind,” he explains with a tap of his head, like he’s somehow cracked the secret code.

Yuuri feels the heavy weight of his Coach in his back pocket. His shoulders hunch up to his ears.

“What about the consent forms?”

“We can give verbal consent, can’t we?” Victor asks, gesturing to himself. “Yuuri Katsuki, will you allow me, Victor Nikiforov, to engage in sexual intercourse with you?”

Yuuri looks at Victor through his eyelashes, cheeks flushing red.

“You’ve got know I’ve been wanting this since the _first_ time we met,” Yuuri blurts. Victor blinks, then he chuckles.

“I did too. You actually starred in a couple wet dreams of mine after our last relationship,” Victor admits without any shame. Yuuri flares hot.

He withdraws his Coach, staring at his reflection against the black glass, before he gives a huff and thrusts it into Victor’s hold before he can think too long about it.

Victor is quick, and he tosses the device into the cupboard with his Coach, shutting the cabinet door with a loud slam.

Silence.

Victor turns to Yuuri, smiling a bit easier. “Out of sight,” he says and points to Yuuri.

Yuuri swallows down his nerves, glad he doesn’t choke on them. “Out of mind,” Yuuri finishes, and Victor gives him a bear hug.

They eat some chocolates and listen to some music, though Yuuri’s mind is split three ways: thinking about their expiry date, observing Victor as he is now with the fireplace’s glow creating shadows on his face, and what they will be doing very soon.

He’s going to have sex with Victor.

He’s going to see Victor’s _dick._

Victor’s hand gives Yuuri’s thigh a light squeeze, eyes hazy with sleep and something more. His lips against Yuuri’s ear - previously singing a melody that is Yuuri’s and Yuuri’s Only - quietly murmur, “Should we get to it?”

Yuuri’s tongue wets his lips. Victor’s eyes follow the action, shining with want.

He nods, and allows Victor to lead him by the hand to the bedroom, a lightness in their step as if they were walking on air.

The drawers are still stocked with the necessities: condoms both flavored and unflavored, different based lubricants, emergency contraceptive patches. Further into the back, there’s even enemas and dental dam, latex gloves and sanity wipes.

“Have you ever used those things?” Yuuri asks, poking around the back cupboard.

“Just the lubes and condoms...you?” Victor stands close behind Yuuri, angling his hips so they’re subtlety flushed against Yuuri’s ass.

Yuuri inspects a box of condoms. “Um...me and Chris - er, the guy you met at the pairing event - we tried these flavored ones.”

“Did you like them?” Victor kisses his ear, then the nape of his neck. Yuuri shivers at the touch.

“They - uh - they taste kind of like medicine. But the cherry one smells like cherry-flavored lip smackers, so I kinda like that one,” Yuuri explains, before tossing the condoms back into the drawer in favor of wrapping his arms around Victor’s neck. “I want to know something. Those dreams you had of me, what did you do?”

Victor presses his forehead against Yuuri’s, arms holding Yuuri by his waist. “I touched you. I touched you in all the ways I wanted to touch you back then, but didn’t.” There’s remorse in Victor’s voice, but there’s also hope and happiness with the little smile that curls onto his lips.

Yuuri feels Victor touching him lightly now, gentle traces of Victor’s fingertips along his thigh and around his hips.

“How did you touch me?” Yuuri murmurs, eyelashes inky and pupils dilated. “Tell me every little detail.”

“...Okay...get naked.”

A pause. Then, Yuuri snorts into Victor’s shoulder. “That line worked in my last relationship,” Victor protests as Yuuri smiles against his neck, lips against his pulse.

“You didn’t say ‘Simon Says’,” Yuuri chides with a smile, and Victor squeezes Yuuri’s midsection, lifting him up off the floor to playfully toss him on the mattress.

Yuuri laughs as he bounces, arms and legs splayed open for Victor to crawl on top and straddle him. His hands are at the front of Yuuri’s slacks, deftly undoing the button and pulling down the zipper.

“ _Simon says,_ get naked,” Victor announces with a toothy grin, pulling Yuuri’s pants down till they get bunched around his knees. Yuuri lifts his hips up to help the clothing off the rest of the way, placing a sock-clad foot against Victor’s crotch.

“Now it’s your turn,” he says with a lilt in his voice, feeling the twitch of Victor’s cock just under his heel.

Victor chuckles, taking hold of Yuuri’s ankle, massaging it with his grip while his other hand goes to undo the front of his slacks. He pulls them down, along with his underwear, and Yuuri feels his jaw go slack at the sight.

“Don’t look so eager to see it,” Victor teases, getting his hand around himself, squeezing his shaft and shuddering out a sigh as he does so. Guiding Yuuri’s foot close, Victor rubs the tip of his cock against the tip of Yuuri’s toes, then down the sole to the heel.

He squints. “Feels kinda weird with the sock on,” Victor comments.

“Kinda weird that you’re using my foot when I have two empty hands and a mouth,” Yuuri retorts back, though with a smile. He pulls his foot from Victor’s grasp, crawling on all fours towards Victor, heat sinking deep in his bones and between his legs where a wet spot already forms against the cotton of his underwear.

He licks his lips as Victor strokes himself, then looks up at Victor through the length of his eyelashes.

“Can I?” he asks, voice small.

Victor swallows. He nods.

Yuuri lets his lips parts, lets Victor guide his cock inside his mouth, and lets the weight of it sit on his tongue. He’s thicker than Chris, than JJ, and _definitely_ Georgi. Yuuri nearly chokes when Victor’s hips give a spasm and he groans.

He blindly reaches for Victor’s hand, tangling his fingers together, that secure familiar warmth welling in his chest right at apex of his beating heart. With the other hand, Yuuri guides Victor’s other hand to the back of his head, waiting for Victor to get a good grip of his hair before he goes to hold the crest of Victor’s hipbone.

For his past sexual experiences, Yuuri’s given fairly ‘pretty’ blowjobs: no eagerness, no playful banter exchanged, just a mechanical up and down bob of his head with few breaks in between to properly catch his breath.

Now, it’s different.

His spit pools out the corner of his mouth as he sucks and licks and drools on Victor’s cock, letting Victor’s hand coax his head up and down, back and forth, in and out. It’s embarrassing when Yuuri takes just a second to think about how he must look right now, to comprehend the wet slurps of his tongue, the guttural moans that are cut off by a gag of Victor’s cock going too far down his throat. He feels his body pricking with heat, his own dick throbbing and desperate for attention.

It’s so embarrassing that he never felt like this before, so needy, so raw and desperate for the taste of someone and the desire to be filled. Part of him wants to savor it: he wants to savor the taste of Victor on his tongue, the weight of Victor’s cock in his mouth as his jaw aches from swallowing him down. He wants to savor Victor’s touch and the way his fingers curl a lock of Yuuri’s sweating hair behind his ear, or how he gently adjusts Yuuri’s glasses as they slip down his nose. Victor touches Yuuri like one touches the petals of a flower, with care, with gentle strokes as it opens itself up and blooms anew.

He wants all of Victor. He want’s Victor’s body, his heat, the breathy sounds of his voice, he wants all of it and he wants to greedily covet it away. He wants Victor’s eyes to look on him the way he does now, he wants Victor’s smile, he wants Victor’s touch.

Yuuri wants Victor’s time.

Yuuri wants all of Victor’s time.

He wants, he wants, he _desperately_ wants.

Victor’s pinky curls against the shell of Yuuri’s ear, while his hand grips hold of Yuuri’s tight. Yuuri looks up, head feeling a little dizzy, only to see Victor’s eyes are scrunched tightly closed, though an expression of immense pleasure is on his lips.

Yuuri momentarily lets Victor’s cock slip from his mouth, a long strand of spit connecting his bottom lip with the shiny, swollen tip. “Is there something wrong?” he asks, voice slightly hoarse.

Victor shakes his head ‘no’, eyes still closed. “Just...I know I’m going to come the second I look at you. You’re _way_ too sexy,” he shudders out, and his hand tightens in Yuuri’s hair. “I wanna make this last. I don’t want it to end so soon and I-“ Victor chokes a gasp as Yuuri wraps his hand around Victor’s cock, holding him at the base.

“Do it,” Yuuri murmurs against Victor’s leaking slit, rubbing the flat of his tongue along the head. “Look at me,” Yuuri mouths along Victor’s shaft, down to his balls where he nips and licks against the skin. “Don’t take your eyes off of me.”

He takes Victor back into his mouth slower this time, and he moves his hand from Victor’s hip to dig the stiff heel of his palm against his cock straining against his underwear for some relief.

Victor chokes, and his eyelashes flutter open. Yuuri can see himself reflected in the pools of Victor’s irises. He’s drowning in them.

Victor comes with a cry, with a pathetic and desperate whimper as white spurts along the underside of Yuuri’s chin, the curve of his cheek, and the lens of his glasses. His hand squeezes Yuuri’s as his body convulses with the high, till at last the tremors stop and Victor slightly buckles with his weight.

Yuuri holds him by the waist, guiding him down on the bed and feeling Victor’s body pliant under his touch, that gentle heat.

Removing his glasses to place on the nightstand, Yuuri then rummages for some sanitary napkins to wipe at his face. He only stops with a sudden jolt as a hand cups the front of his brief, his cock twitching with relief.

Victor’s movements are slow, sleepy with the post-orgasmic high as he slips his warm hand beneath the brim of Yuuri’s underwear and gets a good grip of him.

“I didn’t finish telling you,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against Yuuri’s. “I didn’t finish telling you...all the things I want to do to you and how I would do it.”

Victor’s mouth breathes hot over Yuuri’s swollen lips, still sticky from his release. “How I’d touch you, how I’d taste you, how’d I want you to fuck me and how’d I want to fuck you,” he rasps, his hand stroking Yuuri and speeding in its jerks when Yuuri starts to arch and writhe under his touch.

With his other hand, Victor undoes the buttons of Yuuri’s shirts, slipping his fingers inside to rub Yuuri’s nipples to stiff peaks. “I’d kiss right here,” he says, kissing at the hollow of Yuuri’s throat before he moves to take a pert nipple into his mouth to suck and tease with his tongue. “I’d kiss you-” he kisses Yuuri’s sternum — “I’d kiss you-“ he kisses Yuuri’s clavicle— “I’d kiss you everywhere. And I’d do it while I was pushing myself inside of you slowly. I wouldn’t stop until I was deep inside of you, and I could feel you squeezing around me.”

Yuuri fists the bedsheets, breathing hard, lips fallen in an ‘oh, oh, _oh_ ’ shape. Victor’s free hand finds Yuuri’s right, and threads their fingers together as they were before.

“I want to be inside you. I want you to be inside me. I want to feel all of you, Yuuri-“ Victor’s eyes start fluttering again, and Yuuri feels his toes beginning to curl and his body burn hotter, brighter, rising upwards like a rocket on the cusp of exploding into a destructive flame. “Yuuri,” Victor breathes, and he chants it just above Yuuri’s mouth that is parted and letting wheezes slip. “Yuuri, Yuuri, _Yuuri._ ”

Yuuri sees white. He sees stars, lights, an infinity that he stretches across in the span of a second, just long enough for his body to quake in the cage of Victor’s arms and for himself to spill over Victor’s working fist. Tears burn at the corners of his eyes and Victor kisses them away, wiping his hand against the bedsheets before he moves it to hold Yuuri by the back of his head.

They lay there in the afterglow, in their warmth, bodies sticky with their release and their sweat, and still a twitch of heat at the bottom of Yuuri’s gut that itches for more.

Yuuri wants this forever.

He wants this for infinity.

 

* * *

 

 

They have three days after their first night where all they do is fuck, to the point where Yuuri goes without underwear for half of the third day, walking around their cottage with only one of Victor’s shirts.

“I feel like an animal,” Victor says with a laugh, hunched over the arm of the couch too small for both of them to barely fit. Yuuri is splayed over Victor’s back, face tucked in the crook of his shoulder as he fucks into him with sloppy thrusts of his hips. His glasses are somewhere on the floor maybe. Or the couch. Or the kitchen counter where they forgot to clean up the wrappers of energy bars and empty bottles of water.

Yuuri’s hand wraps around to give Victor’s cock a tug, rubbing his thumb in the slit where Victor is leaking pre-come and slicks Yuuri’s palm. Victor moans to that, tilting his head back to expose his throat and the collection of hickeys that bruise red and purple against his flushed skin. Yuuri brings his lips to that spot, and sucks a new bruise there, admiring the sounds that Victor whimpers out.

“I’m coming,” Victor chokes, though Yuuri already knows when he feels Victor squeezing down on his cock. His hand reaches back and grabs at Yuuri’s hand, twining their fingers together as Yuuri’s gives it to him harder, feeling his own climax stirring in his bones as he begins to tremble.

Victor does that a lot, Yuuri thinks. Reaching out to hold hands just as the other comes, squeezing just as the high hits.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, _I’m_ -“ Yuuri kisses against the shell of Victor’s ear as Victor stops babbling and starts gasping. He comes in Yuuri’s hand, a few splotches getting on the material of the couch. Yuuri digs the balls of his heels into the wooden flooring, coming hard into his condom with a grunt in the spot between Victor’s shoulder blades.

Yuuri pulls out with a slight stutter in his step, winding his arms around Victor’s midsection. They both go boneless and collapse on the couch. Then, because it still is too small to hold them, promptly roll off to the side and onto the floor together.

Victor groans. “Okay, take five,” he breathes, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his forehead. Yuuri laughs, kissing Victor’s chest, up his neck, the cleft of his chin and then...

...

...

...

He can’t.

He still can’t kiss Victor’s lips.

The hesitation is brief, since Victor sits them both up with a small wince, rubbing at his backside.

“I think I can go for a bath,” he sighs aloud, then leans in to give a light sniff at Yuuri’s neck. “I think you can go for one too.”

Yuuri hits at Victor’s chest, an awkward laugh erupting from his throat at the jarring switch of thoughts. Victor smiles into Yuuri’s skin, lightly kissing at it.

“Would you care to join me?”

“I always do,” Yuuri reminds, helping Victor to his feet when he staggers. They wrap an arm around each other, and Victor reaches down to roll off Yuuri’s condom, tying it before tossing it in the wastebasket at the kitchen’s archway.

Victor kisses the side of Yuuri’s forehead. “I’ll get the bath started,” he murmurs with a yawn, and walks with a small limp in his step down the long hallway.

Yuuri finds his shirt and slips it back on, toes curling against the wood as he brings his fingertips to his lips. He gives a cautious glance towards the kitchen, to where their Coaches are still resting hidden in the cabinet, untouched but surely counting down their days left.

It’s been three days.

How long is this going to last?

“Yuuuurii, I’m already getting lonelyyy,” Victor’s voice calls from the bedroom, the sound of running water faint to Yuuri’s ears. As always, Yuuri gets shaken out from the web of his thoughts before they fully ensnare him, and he calls to Victor with a ‘Be right there!’.

He heads to the bathroom with heavy steps. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about. Don’t think about what he’ll lose when he should be thinking about what he has. Don’t think about it. _Don’t think about it. **Don’t think about it**._

 

* * *

 

One week passes.

Two weeks.

Three.

A month.

The sex fizzles into a sweet warmth, compared to how it used to snuff out and spontaneously ignite in Yuuri’s past relationships. Sometimes, he wakes Victor by stroking his cock beneath the sheets of the bed, rolling a condom onto him when he’s hard in Yuuri’s grasp, and mounts him after fingering himself open all the while. Victor will run his hands over Yuuri’s body, fucking Yuuri on his cock, murmuring through a still sleepy voice how beautiful Yuuri looks when he’s taking Victor with the morning sun as his backdrop.

They climax together, they shower together, they eat breakfast together and then, the day is theirs. Without their Coaches, they leave the cottage and just wander around the forest of their surroundings, exploring the trees and walking as far up the road as it could take them, hands interlinked and enjoying their company.

They find a dried riverbank that opens into a lake, and Victor shows Yuuri how to skip rocks against its surface. Across the lake, the wall keeps them from seeing past the horizon.

“I think it’s all a system, us being here and going through relationships,” Victor tells Yuuri one day, sitting out by the lake’s edge while Yuuri throws rocks and watches them sink after one throw.

“That _might_ be why they call it _the_ system,” Yuuri says with a shrug, then laughs as Victor reaches up to pull him to the ground by his waist. They tussle a bit, rolling around in the grass until Victor holds Yuuri against him, both resting side by side, ankles hooked together.

“I _meant_ that its all a _system_. Like...like, okay, we get paired together, right? And we’re told that us being paired with multiple people will benefit in the end because it all goes to finding our perfect match, right?” Victor asks.

Yuuri hums. There’s some dandelions growing just within his reach above his head. He plucks one and places it behind Victor’s ear. He’s beautiful.

“So, what if it’s really doing is just wearing us down?” Victor asks, thumb rubbing little circles in the side of Yuuri’s hipbone. “What if this is just some fucked up waiting game where they see how long will we put up with partner after partner after partner until finally, they throw someone at us and call them ‘our ideal match’? And then we just end settling with someone that we’re _supposed_ to be soulmates with, but really, it’s all one big lie?”

“I think I would rather have the blood orgy,” Yuuri says. Victor chuckles. “Well, what about the Coaches? What do they do?” Yuuri then asks, threading another dandelion behind Victor’s ear.

“Okay, so my theory is that they are mobile cameras watching us. Watching us like everyone is, like those men in black do at the Hub,” Victor conspires. “And maybe, maybe we’re in some experiment. Maybe we’re participants in some sort of world where - where we’re supposed to find our ideal match but everything is rigged to better suit their research. And - and maybe I’m not me and you’re not you and everything isn’t anything and it’s...it’s just _really_ fucked.”

Yuuri rubs his thumb against Victor’s cheekbone, watching the way the dandelions quiver in the breeze, flowing with Victor’s hair.

“I don’t feel real?” Yuuri asks, voice barely audible.

Victor watches Yuuri carefully before he answers, taking Yuuri’s hand to kiss at his pulse.

“You do feel real,” he says into Yuuri’s skin. “ _We_ feel real.”

Yuuri hears the inflection in Victor’s voice that he’s thinking on something else. Thinking about something that makes his hold of Yuuri’s hand grow fiercely possessive, desperate to hold on for as long as he can. There’s something in Victor’s eyes that he’s trying not to show, blinking it furiously away though Yuuri sees it clear as the blue sky above, something he’s so painfully familiar of.

Victor is scared.

Yuuri thinks about the Coaches and thinks about infinity, how long it lasts, how he sees it everywhere, from the way the wall stretches till that is all he sees to the sky, its clouds, its stars. It’s there. It’s there in Victor’s eyes too, infinity that Victor wants to share, wants to covet just as badly as Yuuri wants to but is too scared to voice.

He knows the moment he kisses Victor, infinity will be forever gone.

He knows the moment he admits to how badly he wants Victor, how badly he wants to love Victor, he won’t he able to handle an infinity without him.

 _Mon cher, this system is going to eat you alive_ , Chris’ words echo gently in Yuuri’s head as he wraps arms around Victor to hold him close, if only to bring them closer to their own infinities within each other for as long as their borrowed time will allow.

 

* * *

 

 

Two months.

Three months.

Four.

Five.

Six.

They go on walks. They go on picnics. They make love on a borrowed checkered blanket and stargaze in their afterglow. Victor kisses Yuuri on the cheek goodnight every time they retire for the evening, and they fall asleep in each other’s grasp till the morning when they rise.

It’s getting harder to admit it. It’s getting scarier.

Yuuri keeps staring at cabinet every time he enters the kitchen. Even just stopping to get a water bottle has him standing in front of the fridge for a good five minutes, _watching_ the cupboard as if the Coaches will roll out and loudly announce that their time is up. They wouldn’t be able to ignore it; they’d be banished and then what? Thrown out into the nothingness where they will surely expire, but at least they will be together?

Victor does a better job at hiding the nerves, or maybe now he’s finally succeeded in not giving a fuck about the system. He smiles at Yuuri with that heart-shaped smile, holds him close in the mornings while they spoon in bed, letting his touches linger with every caress and holding Yuuri close when Yuuri pushes his cock inside Victor’s heat. He kisses Yuuri in every spot aside from his mouth, in any spot where his lips can touch. He explores and loves Yuuri body with every day, every hour, minute, second, moment.

It scares Yuuri. It scares Yuuri to the point that he trembles in his sleep, his back against Victor’s warm heart.

Seven months.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

They get invited to another coupling day and watch as a man and a woman unite under the wonderful guidance of the system. They’re the only ones in attendance that aren’t holding tightly to their Coach.

How much longer?

How much longer is this going to last?

Is Yuuri going to wake up to find that their time is up? Is it going to happen while he sleeps? When is it going to end? How much longer? _How much longer?_

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri jumps, nearly cutting himself with a knife while chopping the vegetables for dinner. He turns to Victor standing beside him, peeling the potatoes to place in the pot currently boiling on the stove.

Victor smiles. “Everything alright, sous chef?” he asks, laughing though his concern seeps easily into his voice.

Yuuri nods his head. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” he says, gathering up the vegetables he chopped to carry and drop into the pot. They land with a splash, and he grabs a wooden spoon to start pointlessly stirring.

After a beat, Victor hums. “We could use some music,” he surmises, and drops the potatoes on the cutting board. “I’ll be right back.”

Victor leaves the kitchen. Yuuri’s eyes immediately go to the cupboard, heart beating manic.

He can’t stop thinking about it.

He has to know.

He has to, he has to, he has to know, he has to _he has to he has **to he has to-**_

Music floats into Yuuri’s ears from the speakers in the ceiling. In his mild startle, he realizes that he has gravitated towards the cupboard, a hand raised to grab hold of the handle and throw the door open.

“There! That’s better!” Victor’s voice sounds next, and Yuuri immediately hurries to open the refrigerator and stick his head inside. He hears the footfalls of Victor’s steps approaching, followed by the refrigerator’s door opening wider to accommodate Victor sticking his head inside as well. “What’re we looking for?”

“Oh. Just...checking if we need more carrots for the stew,” Yuuri lies, hoping the waver of his voice goes unnoticed.

Victor nods, his hand resting on the small of Yuuri’s back before it goes down to give his ass a little squeeze.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay. We haven’t even cooked the meat and the onions yet,” he says with a shrug, standing upright. He takes Yuuri away by the hand, pulling him into his grasp and rocking along to the instrumental of the music playing in the speakers above. Yuuri moves with him, offbeat and unsure, but easily finding his footing and helplessly following Victor’s lead.

“What’s this song?” Yuuri asks as Victor’s arms wind around his waist, pulling him flushed against his body.

“Let’s Go Away for Awhile,” Victor says into the crown of Yuuri’s hair. “Beach Boys. Pet Sounds, 1966.”

Yuuri smiles into the collar of Victor’s shirt. “Must have been a good year,” he murmurs. Victor hums in agreement.

They rock together with quiet steps in their kitchen, arms around each other, faces buried against each other. Yuuri feels Victor’s heart beating against his own. He hears his breathing in his ear, can feel his pulse as he trails his fingertips up the side of Victor’s neck to lightly grip at the back of his hair.

“...It sounds nice,” Victor suddenly speaks, voice quiet.

“...Yeah. I like it,” Yuuri whispers.

“No...like, like ‘going away for awhile’. I....I wish I could do that. I wish _we_ could do that. Just take everything that we have and _go_. And I don’t know _where_ we’d go or what we’d do there when we got there, but I just want to _go_ and have you right there with me,” Victor explains, licking his lips.

Yuuri feels Victor squeeze him tighter, his steps slower. Yuuri’s heart starts beating. _No,_ he thinks. _No, please don’t._

“I don’t want this to end,” Victor continues. “I don’t want any of this to end, the cooking and walking and skipping rocks and stargazing. I want you. I _only_ want you.”

Yuuri clutches a fist in the front of Victor’s shirt, burying his face in the crook of Victor’s neck so he can’t see Yuuri’s lips twisting in pain. _Please don’t. Please don’t._

And there, as the music swells and the pot bubbles on the stovetop, Victor Nikiforov says, “I love you.”

Yuuri shatters into a million pieces.

He doesn’t know what comes first, his body quaking or the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Either way, Yuuri does both and he hasn’t a clue how to stop either.

Victor holds Yuuri’s face, thumbing away the tears, shock in his eyes.

“Y-Yuuri? W-What is it? What’s going on?”

“You—“ Yuuri chokes out a sob, the tears falling faster— “you - you - _youyou **you** -_“

He can’t breathe. He can’t see. He can’t even speak.

He loves Victor.

He loves Victor so fucking _much._

He loves Victor and Victor loves him and now...

Yuuri cries. He hiccups and he sniffles and he wishes he can stop, but Victor holds his face like he’s made of glass and it only makes Yuuri cry harder.

Pulling away, Yuuri turns on the heel of his feet and runs, tripping over his own feet as he stumbles down the hallway to the bedroom and then to the bathroom. He closes the door shut and slumps against it, hugging his knees to his chest like some child, burying his face in the crooks of his arms as his breathing continues to feel like its being punched out of him.

He’s not sure for how long he sits there, how long Victor allows for him to sit and stew and cry alone, but there’s a gentle knock at the bathroom door when Yuuri finally feels the tremors of his body diminish.

“Yuuri?” Victor’s voice warily calls. After a moment’s pause, Yuuri gets to his feet and unlocks the door.

Yuuri spares a glance in the mirror at his reflection, at his flush of his cheeks and his eyes, red-rimmed and puffy. His nose is still snotty took, and he awkwardly wipes at it with the back of his hand before he looks to Victor.

Victor doesn’t look like he knows what to do, what to say or how to say it. He looks helpless, and it makes Yuuri ache.

“Did you...did you want to sit down for dinner?” Victor asks with a hesitant smile.

Yuuri nods, averting his eyes. He goes to step past Victor out of the bathroom, but Victor stops him with hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, holding him in place. “Yuuri,” Victor starts with that quiet tone, “I’m sorry if what I said hurt you but I...I do love you.”

Yuuri pulls away. “Why would you say that?” he croaks. “Why would you say that _knowing_ that this...that _us_ -“

“But we’re real,” Victor says, chasing after Yuuri with his hands and pulling him close. “We’re real, aren’t we? This...what I feel for you and...and what you feel for _me._..”

Yuuri can’t look at Victor. He turns his face away, pressing his hand against Victor’s chest.

“I can’t,” he whispers, his forehead bumping against Victor’s shoulder, his hand drawing into a fist with the material of Victor’s shirt tightly clutched in his grasp. “I can’t.”

It’s quiet.

Victor doesn’t say anything for the longest time, though his hands still remain on Yuuri’s shoulders, holding him close. Soon, Yuuri feels Victor bury his face into Yuuri’s hair, and his grip on Yuuri’s shoulders grows tight.

They hold each other, they caress each other, until Yuuri murmurs that they should eat and wash up for bed. Victor acknowledges Yuuri’s words with a squeeze of his midsection, and then takes hold of Yuuri’s hand to lead him back down the hall to the kitchen where dinner waits to be served.

They eat in silence. They take a bath together in silence. When it is time for bed, Yuuri faces away from Victor, curled up in a fetal position beneath the sheets.

Victor switches off the lights. “...Goodnight, Yuuri,” Victor says in the dark, and though it is unspoken, Yuuri still hears the ‘ _I love you_ ’ in Victor’s voice.

It’s the only thing he can hear, over and over on endless repeat like a precious record crudely scratched.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

_But I can’t have you._

 

 

 

It’s their eleventh month together when Yuuri looks at the expiry date.

Victor is gone when he wakes up, and after the panic attack Yuuri is thrown into subsides, he finds a note from Victor letting him know that breakfast is cooked and waiting for Yuuri, while he is out for a walk and will be back shortly.

There’s a sentence that was erased at the very end just before Victor signed it. Yuuri already knows what it said.

He goes into the kitchen and finds the plate of waffles and eggs sunny side up and runny just the way Yuuri likes them. He also sees the cupboard just above where the plate sits on the counter, taunting him, mocking him, urging him to put an end to the questions, the anxiety, the _panic._

He reaches up and opens the cupboard door, standing on his tip toes to reach for the top shelf as best as he can. Yuuri stretches and strains and in his struggle, his conscience implores him to stop, to think and rationalize and _not do this._ Victor will be hurt to find Yuuri broke the promise. Victor will be upset. Victor might even lose a little bit of trust in Yuuri, devastated that Yuuri lost trust in them.

But he can’t.

He can’t go on like this.

He needs to know.

With one foot braced against the bottom cupboards, Yuuri gives himself a quick boost up and he blindly grabs at the first Coach he can reach. He closes the cupboard quickly, holding the device close to his chest.

“Coach?” he asks, the word slightly foreign on his tongue and tone helpless.

The glass screen illuminates. “ _Good morning, Yuuri,_ ” it says, as if today is another day and Yuuri didn’t lock it away for months.

He hears his conscience again, asking to put the Coach back, put it away.

Yuuri grits his teeth. “I-I need to know. I need to know if he’s the one.”

“ _I do not comprehend. Define ‘the one’._ ”

Yuuri hisses a curse, cautiously looking over his shoulder at the front door in case Victor should walk in on him. “Victor. My ultimate match. I need to know if...I need to know if we’ll be together.”

“ _Your ultimate match has not yet been decided. The system takes both positive and negative aspects of previous relationships in order to construct a path that will lead you to your ideal match._ ”

“But how much more time do you need? Victor and I...if he’s not my ideal match then...then when will our relationship end?”

The Coach changes screens, a lone thumbprint dead center with the words **TAP TO REVEAL EXPIRY DATE** circling around the outer rim.

What if there isn’t anything to worry about?

What if the Coach was wrong, like it was ‘wrong’ about seeing Victor again?

What if Victor catches him looking and he ruins everything?

There’s too much doubt in Yuuri’s mind, feeling as though he is being pulled in three different ways: the worry of their time expiring and never seeing each other again, the worry of Victor catching him, the desire to just ignore the Coach and the system. Yuuri doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to think, what to believe, what to trust in. He can’t even find solace in his own thoughts, his own wants. Panic and fear rumbles through his body like an earthquake.

He can’t.

He can’t.

He taps the screen.

...

...

...

**Your relationship is 25 years**

...

Oh.

...

Oh god.

Yuuri chokes out a laugh, knees nearly buckling. _Twenty-five years_. That’s...that’s so much time. That’s _more_ than enough time. That’s more than enough time to kiss Victor, to hold Victor, to explore and learn and share every little thing about their love with Victor because that is so much ti-

**RECALIBRATING**

**YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS 10 YEARS**

The color drains from Yuuri’s face.

“W- _What?_ ”

**RECALIBRATING**

**YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS 5 YEARS**

“What are you doing? _What are you doing?!_ ” Yuuri screams, jabbing his thumb against the glass screen.

“ _I am not doing anything._ ”

“Yes you are! W-Why is the time getting smaller?!”

“ _Deceptive means of observation has destabilized the expiry date_ ,” the Coach responds as the numbers continue to flash in and out. Yuuri’s head darts around, stumbling backwards into the counter, knocking his plate of breakfast onto the floor and the plate shattering with a loud _crash!_

“I’ll tell Victor,” he begs, he _pleads_. “I’ll tell Victor that I looked if that will fix things. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just wanted to know. Stop it, _please stop it._ ”

**RECALIBRATING**

**YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS 1 YEAR**

“ _I cannot do that. Once the expiry date has been shortened, it cannot be extended._ ”

**RECALIBRATING**

**YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS 8 MONTHS**

“Why? Why are you doing this?” Yuuri asks with a tremble in his voice, slumping to the floor.

“ _Everything happens for a reason,_ ” the Coach says, and it sounds so complacent, so snide, “ _Your reaction to the self-destruction of a cherished relationship will be invaluable data towards finding your perfect match. Your participation is greatly appreciated_.”

“Shut up! _Shut up!_ ”

**RECALIBRATING**

**YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS 4 MONTHS**

“Stop it! _Please stop it! Give it back!_ ”

**RECALIBRATING**

**YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS ONE MONTH**

Yuuri brings the device to his forehead. He can’t breathe. He can’t _breathe._

**RECALIBRATING**

**YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS TWO WEEKS**

 

**RECALIBRATING**

**YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS FIVE DAYS**

 

**RECALIBRATING**

**YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS FORTY-EIGHT HOURS**

 

**RECALIBRATING**

 

**RECALIBRATION COMPLETE**

Yuuri is shaking.

He brings the Coach down from his forehead to see the final time.

Six hours.

Six hours for twenty five years.

Yuuri lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, before it escalates into a miserable scream.

Regret and self-hatred swallow him whole as the countdown interface flashes onto the screen, pleasantly whittling away the last few hours that Yuuri has with Victor. He stares at it, holding onto the device with a trembling hand, hissing out wheezes and stifling his cries through his gritted teeth.

At last, Yuuri moves from his spot on the kitchen floor. He doesn’t have the time to cry. Literally.

He shoves his Coach into the pocket of his sweats and grabs a broom, sweeping up the mess of breakfast that he made, and waits for Victor’s return.

 

 

 

Victor comes back to their cottage twenty minutes after Yuuri has hid away all evidence of him knocking over his breakfast. Yuuri threw his Coach back up on the top shelf with more force than needed, and sat in the living room when Victor opened the door with a tired smile.

“Morning,” Victor says to Yuuri, toeing off his shoes. “Did you enjoy breakfast?”

Yuuri swallows, giving an enthusiastic nod of his head ‘yes’.

Victor approaches him, and Yuuri can’t help but feel that there’s something...off about the way Victor walks. The steps are small, like he’s counting them one by one as he approaches Yuuri with careful trepidation. There’s something in Victor’s eyes that Yuuri doesn’t understand. They’re shiny, like Victor cried sapphires mere seconds before.

He pulls Yuuri to his feet and kisses Yuuri’s neck. “I want to...I know it’s early still but I...” his hands move down to squeeze at Yuuri’s behind, pressing his forehead against Yuuri’s as he sighs. Yuuri kisses Victor’s chin, cupping his cheek.

“Okay,” he murmurs, and kisses the tip of Victor’s nose.

Victor helps himself out of his clothes and Yuuri does the same, pushing the clothing aside with the edge of his foot. Victor kisses down the exposed curve of Yuuri’s neck, nips lightly over his clavicle, then bends down more to take a pert nipple into his mouth.

He sucks at it, teases both of Yuuri’s nipples with his teeth and tongue till they are stiff and Yuuri whimpers out a cry as Victor blows warm air over them. Getting a handful of Yuuri’s ass, Victor spreads the cheeks apart, tracing a dry finger around the rim of Yuuri’s puckered entrance.

“The lube,” Yuuri gasps, hands tangling in Victor’s hair. Victor pulls away from Yuuri’s chest, nodding his head and walking down the hall. Yuuri sits on the couch, reaching for his cock in between his legs to give a halfhearted stroke. The last time they ever do this, probably; the enthusiasm isn’t as prevalent in his gut as it used to be.

Victor returns with a bottle of lube, a pack of sanitary wipes, and a condom that he places on the coffee table. He looks to Yuuri with those eyes that are still far too shiny for Yuuri’s comfort, squeezing himself on the couch while pulling Yuuri to sit on his lap.

“Are you ready?” Victor asks, reaching for lube and slicking his fingers with a copious amount. Yuuri nods, holding Victor by his shoulders. He twitches when one wet finger slides between his asscheeks and circles the rim, then gasps as the finger sinks inside him to the knuckle with very little resistance.

“You open up so well for me,” Victor murmurs, moving his finger in and out, plunging in a second digit and then a third to scissor and spread Yuuri open. Yuuri’s eyes close shut, mouth fallen open so pitiful whines can float from his lips into the warm afternoon air of their cottage. He rocks his hips back on Victor’s fingers, fucking himself on them, taking in more, more, he needs _more_.

Yuuri buries his face into the crook of Victor’s neck. “Inside me,” he murmurs, feeling Victor’s ring finger lightly rub against his walls.

“...What do you want, Yuuri?” Victor asks. It doesn’t sound like his usual teasing voice he does when they have sex. It’s something...off.

Yuuri clutches a hand in Victor’s hair. “You inside of me...hurry,” he gasps, he begs, legs spreading on their own.

Victor kisses at Yuuri’s shoulder, giving a solemn hum into Yuuri’s skin that he can’t hide. Yuuri’s hands go up to hold Victor by his face, and he stares deep into those shiny blue eyes.

“Is there something wrong?” he asks Victor.

Victor shakes his head, smiling.

“No. It’s nothing. I...I think I might be a little bit more tired than I thought I was,” Victor says. He kisses the inner part of both of Yuuri’s wrists, then leaves Yuuri butterfly kisses at his throat.

“We don’t have to do this,” Yuuri says, voice tapering to a whimper when Victor resumes fucking him open with his fingers. Victor withdraws them, pressing the wet pads against the rim of Yuuri’s hole where it clenches around nothing.

“I want to,” Victor says, eyes lidded with something that isn’t lust. “I want to do this. I want to have you. I want to have all of you.”

He says it so desperately, and Yuuri thinks about the Coach. Five hours, thirty minutes, fifteen seconds, fourteen, et cetera.

Yuuri kisses Victor’s face, a light peck at the corners of his eyes where Victor’s skin tastes a little bit salty. Victor reaches for a condom, but Yuuri stops him.

“Just...just this once should be fine,” Yuuri says, voice barely audible. “Just this one time.”

Victor stares, before he kisses Yuuri’s neck and goes to grab the lube instead.

He continues kissing Yuuri as he slicks his cock, and Yuuri feels the wetness of Victor’s hands gently guide his thighs open wider for an easier guide inside. The stretch is familiar, the burn bittersweet. Yuuri clutches to Victor’s shoulders as the other man pushes inside his heat, deeper, deeper, deeper, until Yuuri’s toes curl and Victor wantonly groans against the underside of Yuuri’s chin.

“You feel so good,” Victor says, breathless. “You feel so good. You’re squeezing around me so tight.” He brings a finger down to where they are joined, rubbing around the stretched rim, then drops his hips down and thrusts them back up.

Yuuri moans. He gasps. He cries.

It’s the slowest Victor’s ever fucked him in their relationship, refusing to let Yuuri take on a faster pace by wrapping his arms tightly around Yuuri’s waist. He bucks into Yuuri, savoring the drag of his cock against Yuuri’s walls, lifting Yuuri till only the tip remains before he plunges back inside balls deep. All the while, Victor murmurs words of love, words of endearment. He says them into Yuuri’s neck, against Yuuri’s heart, into Yuuri’s cheek.

“ _Please_ ,” Yuuri whispers, trying to rock his hips, “faster. Go faster.”

Victor doesn’t. He takes the time neither of them have.

It feels good. It feels so good raw, to feel the throb of Victor’s cock and the swell of him every time Yuuri clenches down with each thrust. Yet, Yuuri thinks about the countdown as Victor makes love to him, as he takes the time to draw out the shivers of Yuuri’s body. Yuuri wants to enjoy this more. But he can’t, he can’t.

“Does it feel good?” Victor asks, increasing the speed of his thrusts by a sliver of a margin. “Am I making you feel good?”

Yuuri’s eyes are fluttering. “I want it faster,” he breathes. “I want it harder. I want-“ Yuuri stops himself from saying anymore, burying his face into Victor’s shoulder before he says something stupid, like _I don’t want this to end. I want you. I want you. **I want you.**_

Victor stands up, still sheathed inside of Yuuri and holding him up by his waist. Yuuri’s legs lock around Victor as he flips them on the couch, Yuuri’s back against the cushion and Victor pushing his dick deeper inside till Yuuri thinks he’s seeing stars and sounds.

“I love you,” Victor says when the tone of his voice sounds like he regrets saying it. His thrusting gets sloppier, frantic. “I love you, I love you, I love you-“ Victor bites back the mantra with a moan, tucking his face into the crook of Yuuri’s neck. He ruts his hips faster, loud wet slaps of skin meeting skin that get chased by Yuuri’s hungry gasps.

Yuuri’s feet point towards the ceiling, his toes curled tight. He curls a tight fist in Victor’s hair, as if that is the only thing that keeps him from feeling like he’s hurtling upupup past the atmospheres and into the cosmos above.

Victor’s going to come, Yuuri can feel the way Victor twitches inside of him, how hurried the thrusts are as he edges towards climax. With his other hand, he reaches for Victor’s that’s clutching the arm of the couch. Victor twines their fingers together and he squeezes, his breathing going hot and ragged against the hollow of Yuuri’s throat.

“I want,” Victor finds within himself to choke out, “I want to see your face. I want to see your face when I come inside you.” He punctuates each word with a thrust that makes something within Yuuri’s gut stir. “Can I?” Victor asks, body trembling, teetering on the edge, “can I come inside you?”

Yuuri squeezes Victor’s hand, eyes fluttering. He’s so close, he’s so close.

“Yuuri,” Victor says, and his breath is warm against Yuuri’s parted lips. Yuuri gasps a whine.

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathes, legs locking around Victor’s waist to hold him in. They both slur and breathe out mantras of each other’s name, until Victor begins to chant ‘I love you’ against the corner of Yuuri’s mouth, and Yuuri crashes head-on into oblivion.

He comes with a sob of Victor’s name, sticky ropes of it covering both of their stomachs as he squeezes Victor’s hand. Victor fucks him through it, till Yuuri is raw and twitching and oversensitive, until with one final thrust, Victor is spilling into Yuuri with a heavenly sigh on his lips.

They stay like that for what feels like a moment trapped in time, Yuuri’s legs slowly going slack around Victor and Victor’s cock going soft. Victor is kissing Yuuri’s jawline, his free hand thumbing Yuuri’s cheekbone, while his other still holds Yuuri’s hand.

“What do you want to do?” he asks into Yuuri’s skin. “Anything. Anything you want, we’ll do it.”

Yuuri brings his free hand to Victor’s sweating hair, threading his fingers through it, memorizing the way it feels down to its finite detail.

“...We can go to the Hub...we haven’t gone in a while,” Yuuri says at last. His voice is small in this indeterminate moment. He tries hard to linger in it for as long as he can.

Victor hums, and he finally pulls out of Yuuri to watch the way his spent dribbles out.

"Okay. We’ll do everything you want today. Every little thing.”

Yuuri can’t find any words to express that there isn’t enough time, that the time they have together is deteriorating as they exist together here and now.

He doesn’t want to either.

 

 

 

They bathe together, but in silence.

They take a cab to the Hub, and the ride there is just as painfully quiet as their bath. Yuuri eyes the Coach in Victor’s pocket needed to call for the ride, and he wonders if he’s seen it, if a message flashed on its screen exposing the fact that Yuuri not only _looked_ but also shortened their time together because he’s nothing but a shitty coward.

Just as they arrive to the Hub, Victor takes hold of Yuuri’s hand. He smiles, but it’s uneasy.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” Yuuri murmurs, eyes averted.

They walk past varying shops, bars, cafes all arranged in pretty little rows. They go up and down the escalators and elevators, not towards any destination and with very little purpose. Victor’s hand is slack in Yuuri’s grasp, allowing Yuuri to tug him around aimlessly, following Yuuri no matter what. Yuuri keeps his eyes from wandering to look at Victor. He tries to keep his hand from clutching to Victor’s too tightly.

On a walkway, Victor stops.

“Yuuri,” he says, keeping Yuuri from walking any further, people moving past them and around them in their own time and space, “Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Yuuri doesn’t look. “Nothing is wrong,” he insists, and tries to continue to walk.

Victor doesn’t budge. “Look at me then...didn’t you say you never want my eyes to leave you? Why won’t you look at me now and say everything is fine?”

Yuuri still doesn’t look. His heart is beating fast. It threatens to jump into his throat and steal away any breath he can dream of allowing to escape.

“Please,” Victor says again. “What’s wrong?”

“I looked.” Yuuri didn’t mean for the truth to come out, but that’s what falls from his twisting lips the moment he parts them. “I looked. I looked at the time and - I couldn’t bear to wait any longer and I couldn’t stop thinking about it and - and I told you I didn’t like surprises, _I told you, I told you_ -“

“Yuuri,” Victor starts, immediately grabbing Yuuri by his trembling shoulders. “It’s okay, it’s okay-“

“No it’s _not_ ,” Yuuri croaks, pulling away from Victor’s touch. “I ruined it. I - I broke it somehow. I - I _fucked_ everything up and I’m _so sorry, I’m so sorry_ -“

“You didn’t break it. You didn’t do anything-“

“Yes I did. I did, I _did_ -“

Victor takes Yuuri’s face into his hands. “No, you _didn’t_...I looked too.”

Yuuri goes tense under Victor’s touch.

The lights of Victor’s eyes dim with regret, and now it’s his turn to avoid looking at crestfallen expression of Yuuri’s face.

“...You what? But...but you were the one who... _why?_ Why did you look? _When_ did you look? Why didn’t - why didn’t you tell me-“

“This morning. I fixed your breakfast and I took my Coach and I went to the lake to look at the expiry date,” Victor confesses, licking his lips. “I know I said I wouldn’t look and I didn’t want us to know, but I...I just started to think...maybe it said we’re each other’s perfect match. I just...I just had a stupid thought that maybe it would say we were meant to be, and that I’d show you it, and you’d let me love you the way that I want to love you...”

People are looking. Watching them as they walk past the two, or while they go down and up the escalators and elevators. Yuuri tries to blink away his tears. Victor thumbs gently at the corners of his eyes.

“Maybe I fucked it up. Maybe we both did. But the point of the matter is that I don’t care. This is real, isn’t it? _We’re_ real, aren’t we? Why - why should we listen to what a stupid little computer says when we _know_ how we feel about each other?” Victor asks. He steps closer, bringing his forehead against Yuuri’s. “I love you, Yuuri. I love you. No amount of time will make me stop feeling the way I feel about you, how I’ve felt about you for _so long_.”

“But the system-“

“We don’t have to listen. We don’t. We can run away. We can go over the wall-“

“But there _must_ be a reason why we’re not each other’s perfect match. There must be something that we’re not seeing and the system does and it knows and we might be setting ourselves up for something-“

“Then let us find our for ourselves! That was the whole point of us both not looking, wasn’t it? To just see what happens?”

“And look how well that turned out.”

“Yuuri-“ Yuuri pushes Victor’s hands away. They only wind back around Yuuri’s waist to hold him steady against Victor. “Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep holding me at arms distance?”

“Because you’re not mine,” Yuuri breathes out, the words painful on his tongue. He tries to pry Victor’s hands off of him, but Victor refuses to let go even as more people begin to watch them with a disapproving eye.

“I _am_. I’m yours, I’ve always been yours-“

“But the system-“

“ _Don’t listen to it!_ ”

It seems the world stops. Everyone stares at them. Two men dressed in black make themselves visible in Yuuri’s peripherals.

Victor’s grip tightens. There’s absolute torment in his eyes, and it is by far the worst thing Yuuri has ever seen. “We could just go over the wall. We could get away from here. We could be happy together.”

“There’s nothing out there-“

“We don’t know that. You don’t know that,” Victor shudders through worried teeth. And Yuuri wants to bite out a response that he _hates_ that he doesn’t know what’s out there, that he _hates_ feeling like even if he and Victor choose to run now, who’s to say that the system won’t try to stop them? What if they banish them, but they make sure that they are separated and alone in the process of it? What then?

There’s too many ‘what if’s’, too much indecision and unsureness. His body wants to remain against Victor’s chest, in Victor’s warmth. His mind and the demons that claw and scrape through his brain hiss that Victor isn’t Yuuri’s to hold.

“I love you,” Victor says, and he makes it sound like it’s his last defense, like it’s all he has left to offer, “I love you and I want to love you with everything I have. How much longer are you going to stay in warm up mode?”

Then, like it’s something that he’s been fearing of himself, Victor asks in a small voice, “Do you love me?...Did I take a misstep somewhere and...and you don’t really-“

Yuuri can’t bring himself to look Victor in the eye, shoulders trembling again. The silence smothers them both.

Victor’s hold on Yuuri loosens. “Oh,” Victor says, and it’s a broken sound. “Then...then I’m sorry to have taken so much of your time.”

_No._

“Victor-“

“We only have about thirty minutes left anyways, so it will be quick-“

“No, _no_ this isn’t how I want us to end-“

“And do you think _I_ want us to end like this?” Victor’s voice cracks, and he quickly turns away. He brings a hand to his face, furiously wiping at his eyes though Yuuri can’t see the tears falling.

The men in black begin to approach them. One withdraws a taser, and it crackles with an angry hiss of electricity.

Yuuri steps away, hands raised. “It’s fine,” he tells them with a shaky voice. “We’re leaving. We won’t cause any problems.”

Blindly, Yuuri reaches for Victor’s hand out of reflex. The moment his fingers touch it, Victor pulls away.

Yuuri swallows, but he doesn’t say a word.

Victor begins to walk past the crowd of observers, off towards nowhere in particular. Yuuri follows behind, and the world resumes its speed. People continue on their lives, and the men in black linger by the railing to watch them depart.

Yuuri’s stride falls two steps out of sync with Victor’s.

They don’t speak.

 

* * *

 

 

There’s only two minutes remaining when the cab returns them to their cottage. There’s another cab already there waiting. Yuuri presumes that one person leaves the cab they’re currently in to get into the other one and be off to their separate destinations.

His hands rest on his lap, while his eyes glance over at Victor with subtle flutters of his eyelashes.

Victor does the same, watching Yuuri out the corner of his eye, his hands squeezing at his knee joints.

At the one minute mark, Yuuri unlocks his door.

He opens it.

He sets one foot out.

And then, he stops.

“...It wasn’t a waste,” Yuuri finds the strength to say.

“...What?”

“Our time together. It wasn’t a waste. It was all I ever wanted,” Yuuri confesses, the words falling from his mouth to race faster than the counter of Victor’s Coach. “I can’t say I love you because I’m a coward, and because I’m weak, and because everything is loud in my head...and some things are saying that I’m such an idiot for ruining what we could have had, and other things are saying that I’m stupid for feeling like this, and even _more things_ are saying that I should trust the system and rationalize this every way I can. But...I just end up feeling stupid...I am stupid.”

Thirty seconds, twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven-

“But I _do_ love you,” Yuuri says aloud, and it feels like the Earth’s gravity stopped tipping past the point to which he could no longer bear its weight. “I do love you,” he says again, liking the sound, _loving_ the sound of those words. “I love you, I love you, I _love you_ and I’m a coward and I’m stupid and I ruined everything and I-“

A hand grabs to his shoulder and spins Yuuri around, before it then cards through Yuuri’s hair to hold him by the back of his head as Victor brings Yuuri into a tight hug.

“I told you,” Victor murmurs against the shell of Yuuri’s ear, “we can be stupid together.” He pulls back, and his lips hover over Yuuri’s, dangerously close. “You’re not alone. I’m right here, I’ve _always_ been right here. I’ll be whatever you want me to be. I’ll meet you where you need me to meet you. I’m sorry that I tried to force it out of you. I’m sorry for making you cry. I’m sorry-“

“We were both being assholes, me especially,” Yuuri says. How much longer? Ten, nine, eight, seven more seconds?

“Assholes in love,” Victor corrects. He sounds stupidly giddy about it.

“We don’t have the time for this,” Yuuri reminds. Victor finds Yuuri’s hand, and it’s warm. It’s home.

“Then let’s make the time,” Victor says with a nod towards the open door, and a tight squeeze of Yuuri’s hand.

Though he is scared, though he is still unsure about the what if’s, the whys, the reasons, Yuuri squeezes Victor’s hand back just as tight.

Releasing it, Yuuri hurries to climb out of the cab.

The second that he does, the cab’s door slams itself shut and locks.

Yuuri goes cold with horror.

There’s immediate banging coming from inside the cab, Victor’s fist repeatedly hitting against the window as the door handle rattles. “Let me out! Coach, unlock the door! Let me out! Yuuri!” Victor shouts as the cab begins to pull away from Yuuri and no no _no._

“Stop! No!” Yuuri screams as the cab accelerates with speed, kicking up a cloud of dust with its wheels as it hurries down the road with Victor trapped inside. Yuuri chases after it, running past the cab that now welcomely opens its doors for him down the road as far as he can, till it disappears out of his sight and he trips over his own feet.

No.

No.

He had him.

He _finally had him._

The cab rolls to the side of him, opening its doors once again for Yuuri to enter. Resting on the seat is a brand new Coach, the tempered glass displaying that Yuuri has a match waiting for him.

Yuuri gets to his feet. He gets inside, clutching the device in terse hands.

“Where did you take him?” he asks. The doors close and lock, and the cab turns around to head in the opposite direction that Victor’s cab retreated.

“ _You have one new match_ ,” the Coach responds.

“I don’t care. Where did you take Victor? Why are you doing this?”

“ _Everything happens for a reason. The system is gauging your reaction to the unexpected termination of this relationship to better calculate your perfect match._ ”

“But this is all _your fault!_ ”

“ _I did nothing_.”

Yuuri drops his Coach on the side of him, then he drops his face into his hands. “Why are you doing this?” he asks again. “Why are you putting us through this?”

“ _Everything happens for a reason_ ,” the Coach says, and speaks no more on the topic.

 

* * *

 

 

Emil Nekola smells of ginger and honeysuckle, and he greets Yuuri with a hug and a warm smile.

Three weeks.

Yuuri doesn’t look him in the eye as Emil talks about his hobbies over their dinner.

He doesn’t acknowledge him in the cab ride to their cottage east of the lake.

When Emil subtly checks off his consent, Yuuri keeps rooted to the couch, unmoving.

“Um, is there something wrong?” Emil asks after he’s taken a shower and slipped into something baggy and loose in contrast to the suit and tie he wore to dinner. There’s kettle corn cooking on the stovetop. It smells sweet to Yuuri’s lungs.

“No,” he mutters, giving his Coach his consent before discarding it on the coffee table.

They share the kettle corn and watch a black and white movie. In the night, in the dark, Emil rests himself upon Yuuri’s bare form and Yuuri disconnects.

 

* * *

 

 

Hisashi Morooka is nice. He speaks well, elongating words and phrases of all the sports events he’s broadcasted in his year before he entered the system. He talks in the spaces that Yuuri doesn’t. He talks for the entire night.

One month.

He consents in the cab ride to their cottage. After Yuuri gives his consent, Hisashi pulls Yuuri into the bed and slips his hand in between Yuuri’s legs to cup him.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, stroking Yuuri to hardness, just before he tries to go in for a kiss.

Yuuri flinches away, and Hisashi stills his hand. “Oh. Um. Is there-“

“I don’t like kissing,” Yuuri cuts Hisashi off before he can ask ‘is there anything _wrong_?’.

“Oh. Uh, alright,” Hisashi says, still sounding confused, but resuming the pace of his wrist as he jerks Yuuri off.

 

* * *

 

 

They blur together. The bodies. The time.

It feels like the system throws someone at Yuuri the second his previous relationship is over. They come in all shapes, all personalities that in the end, don’t distinguish themselves from each other until it feels as though Yuuri circles through a time loop, just with different participants each restart.

Michele Crispino denies consent after they have dinner, his face a hard line.

“I’m not interested in flings,” he tells Yuuri to his face. Their time is only ten hours.

Yuuri feels neither indifferent nor pleased. He nods once, and he sleeps on the couch until the Coach alarms him that their time is up.

 

 

 

More people float in and out of Yuuri’s life, through the system. He starts withholding his consent, keeping his distance, building a bigger mental wall to keep anyone and everyone from drifting too close to him.

He thinks about Victor. He misses Victor. He wants Victor. He wants Victor so badly.

“He’s _not_ complying, Coach,” Yuuri hears his date say, some man with coarse dark hair that looked over him with lecherous blue eyes as Yuuri uncomfortably ate his dinner. Currently, Yuuri lounges in the bath, trying to remember how it felt when he rested up against Victor’s chest and the man placed upon his head a crown of bubbles and foam.

“ _Both parties must consent. Failure to respect this aspect of the system will result in immediate termination of the relationship and banishment_ ,” his Coach reminds.

“Fuck that! We’re stuck together for four months! I have needs too, you know!”

“ _The system is gauging your frustration in dealing with a sexless relationship and will use this invaluable data to better calculate your perfect match. Your participation is greatly-_ ”

Yuuri hears the sound of something being forcefully thrown across the room, and he sinks further down into the bath water, cautiously watching the door.

His Coach informs him as he towels off later that the expiry has been shortened to five minutes.

He’s out of the door, out the cottage, and into the cab without a moment’s hesitation.

 

 

 

The relationships become shorter.

36 hours.

22 hours.

5 hours.

36 hours.

36 hours.

36 hours.

36 hours.

They’re all loveless. They’re all empty.

 

* * *

 

 

Phichit Chulanont denies consent immediately after dinner. He and Yuuri are to be together for 48 hours. They haven’t even gotten to the cab yet.

“Don’t think that it’s an insult or anything!” Phichit hurriedly tells Yuuri as the cab starts moving. He bobs his knee up and down nervously, biting at his lower lip as he gives a shy little smile. “Just...I’ve been thinking about someone lately and...I don’t know, I kinda feel a little weird sleeping with someone else. You’re _totally_ hot, but...yeah.”

Yuuri blinks. “Oh, um. No, it’s alright. I haven’t been sleeping with anyone lately either.” He reaches into his pocket and withholds his consent as well.

Phichit breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks for understanding. My last ex got super pissed about it. Said that the system is just for people to fuck and I’m spoiling the fun for him,” Phichit says with a click of his tongue and an eye roll. “I’ve been getting fed nothing but tools, so I’m glad that the system is _finally_ wising up.”

Turning to Yuuri with a curious tilt, Phichit then asks, “I don’t _look_ like the kind that goes for tools, do I?”

Yuuri smiles. “Um, no?”

“Great. You don’t look like the kind either,” Phichit says with a friendly elbow to Yuuri’s side.

 

 

 

Phichit is madly in love with a man named Seung-Gil Lee. They met on Phichit’s third date, Seung-Gil’s seventh. Their relationship was fourteen months.

“He’s such an awful stick in the mud,” Phichit laughs as the two of them lounge in the bed, inches apart but facing each other. “But when he smiles, it makes you feel all warm inside. The good kind of warm, like...like you’re home. You know what I mean?”

Yuuri nods. He knows, he knows, he _knows._

“He had so many weird quirks about him. He always gave me all of his vegetables like he was doing me a _favor_ , he used Q-tips to clean his nose because he didn’t like the way tissue felt, and he’s the only guy I’ve ever met that can pull off a resting bitch face while I was riding him like a stallion.”

A pause. “Was that too much information?” Phichit asks.

“It’s alright,” Yuuri murmurs through a smile, cheek turned into the cotton of his pillow. Phichit nods, then continues.

“The day we ended the relationship, he told me I gave him migraines and I have bad taste in movies. Then, he kissed me...and he held me...and I just _knew_.” Phichit sighs, flopping onto his back. “I still can’t believe I fell in love with him. I thought the Q-tips would have got me, but I guess not.”

“Maybe you’ll be each other’s match,” Yuuri suggests. Phichit laughs, airy. He takes his Coach to hold in front of his face.

“Cause everything happens for a reason, right?” Phichit says in an imitation of the Coach’s voice. He then tosses the device to the side, propping his chin up with his hand. “I don’t want him to be my perfect match. I don’t want to love him because the system says I should. I’m a big boy; I want to love him all on my own.”

“So...what will happen-“

“When I get paired with my ‘perfect match’?” Phichit shrugs. “I don’t know. All I know is that when that time comes, I’m going to find Seung-Gil again, I’m going to kiss him, and I’m going to get us the hell out of here.”

Phichit’s Coach lights up.

“ _Failure to comply with the system will result in banishment_ ,” it warns. Phichit clucks his tongue, grabbing it to toss in the drawer stocked with condoms and lube.

“And now that the eavesdropper is gone,” Phichit says, scooting in close to Yuuri. “Tell me about yours.”

“...My what?”

“The person _you’re_ in love with. The one that _isn’t_ a tool,” Phichit clarifies with a warm smile.

“O-Oh,” Yuuri stammers, and he thinks about Victor lying where Phichit is, smiling at him the way Phichit does now.

His first breath comes out a little bit strangled, but Yuuri’s shoulders relax. His guard drops with the downward turn of his eyelashes, and he lets his words flow free.

 

 

 

Phichit hugs him tight when it’s time for them to depart, and with Yuuri’s permission, he gives a kiss to the tips of both Yuuri’s ears.

“Good luck with finding Victor,” Phichit says as he slowly meanders to his cab. Yuuri nods, walking with just as slow of a pace to his own cab.

“Good luck with Seung-Gil,” Yuuri says, not having felt this gentle warmth in his chest in such a long while. “Good luck with _everything._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

The system pairs him up with three more relationships - each one 48 hours - before the system stops pinging for new relationships all together.

Yuuri spends his time walking the perimeter of the lake. He spends it walking through the woods, hearing the twigs and the grass crunch underneath the soles of his shoes. At night, he goes stargazing and he wonders where in this small little world is Victor.

He wonders if Victor is looking up at the moon and its stars at the same time, wherever he is.

 

 

 

One day, as Yuuri sits by the lake, twirling a dandelion stem between his fingers, his Coach pings.

“ _Congratulations, Yuuri,_ ” the Coach says, “ _your ultimate match has been identified. Your pairing date is scheduled for tomorrow_.”

Yuuri drops the dandelion stem, eyes wide.

“...My ultimate match?...So...so it’s all over now?”

“ _Yes. Tomorrow, you will be united with your ultimate match. Together, you two will leave this place forever._ ”

“Do I know them? Do - do they know me? Who are they?”

“ _I cannot disclose that information._ ”

“Will you stop _toying_ with me, for _once?_ ” Yuuri hisses at the device.

There’s a long pause.

“ _I am not toying with you-_ “

“Have we met before? Yes or no.”

“ _Negative._ ”

Yuuri purses his lips tight. He sighs.

“ _There is one more piece of information before we can continue discussion on your pairing day,_ ” the Coach forages on, ignorant of Yuuri’s displeasure. “ _Prior to your pairing day, you will be allocated a short farewell period to be spent with an individual of your choosing._ ”

“...What?”

“ _You will be allowed to spend an allocated time-_ ”

“I-I heard what you said,” Yuuri stammers, heart racing as he stands to his feet. “We can pick anyone? Anyone at all?”

“ _Correct. The data shows that this can provide any psychological closure that you might-_ “

“Victor,” Yuuri says, and he can’t get his words out fast enough. “Victor, Victor, I choose him.”

” _Okay. Your choice has been registered. Victor Nikiforov will be waiting for you at your usual booth, 7:30pm. Thank you._ ”

Yuuri holds his Coach to his chest, and he looks to the lake and the water glimmering with the sunlight. In the distance, the wall looms.

“Hey, Coach? Before you go, can I ask you to do one thing?” Yuuri asks, approaching the lake’s edge.

“ _What is it?_ ”

“Count to four,” Yuuri says, and with a wind of his wrist, skips the device across the surface of the lake, before watching it drown in the waters that stretch out before him.

 

 

 

Yuuri arrives no later than 7:29. Victor is already seated, but the moment Yuuri hurries himself inside - dressed in a navy blue suit and a barely tied tie - Victor rises to his feet.

Wordlessly, he holds open his arms. Yuuri runs.

For lack of a better term, he flings himself at Victor, crushing their lips together as they both tumble to the ground. The world around them goes silent, but all Yuuri hears is his own heartbeat.

He pulls away, lips hovering over Victor’s, the back of his right hand aching as it shielded Victor’s head from banging against the ground. Victor looks at Yuuri with stars in his eyes, and he breathes, “ _Wow._ Well, _that_ was a surprise.”

“You said you liked surprises,” Yuuri says, and kisses Victor again and again and _again._

Victor gets them to their feet, if only so he can let his hands roam all around Yuuri’s body as he kisses him deep, tangling his fingers first in Yuuri’s hair and then the back of his suit and then a grope at his ass; Victor touches Yuuri in every spot that he can, sighing ‘I love you’ against Yuuri’s tongue.

He tastes sweet, Yuuri finds. Victor tastes like honey, like starlight, like heat that pools in Yuuri’s stomach and erupts into gentle peals of laughter as Victor eagerly starts kissing at all of Yuuri’s face before kissing him firm on the mouth once more.

As they pull back, the patrons at the restaurant watch from their booths with open contempt. Yuuri ignores them, and pulls Victor even tighter against him.

“H-How much time do we have?” Victor asks as Yuuri holds his face.

“I don’t care,” Yuuri breathes. “We should have been out of here _months_ ago. I - I got paired with someone tomorrow. I don’t want them. I want you.” Yuuri punctuates his sentences with a kiss to Victor’s lips. “I want you, I want you. I love you, I _love you_.”

“I love you too. I got paired tomorrow too. I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long-“ Victor chases after Yuuri’s lips, his tongue, squeezing Yuuri tight before he melts in Yuuri’s hold.

Yuuri pulls away, taking some needed breaths. “Let’s go. Right now. Over the wall and into whatever it is out there,” he gasps in the space between their lips.

Something bright illuminates itself in Victor’s pocket. Victor hurriedly withdraws it, his Coach flashing that they have twenty seconds left. Yuuri can’t help but give a scoff at it.

“ _Failure to comply within the perimeters of the system may result-_ ”

“I’ve had enough of this thing,” Victor mutters, and drops his Coach in a passing waiter’s pitcher. He takes hold of Yuuri’s hands, as their time together ticks down till its very last second.

“Let’s go,” Victor says, sealing his lips against Yuuri’s for one more kiss, hands squeezing tight.

As they turn, the number of eyes watching them is unsettling. There’s displeased frowns, disapproving shakes of the head, crossed arms and disgruntled murmurs.

There’s two men in black that are approaching them, tasers at the ready and darkened expressions.

Victor wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, protective and with no inclination that he will let go.

“Stay close to me,” he murmurs. Yuuri looks at him with wide eyes.

“What are you planning to do?”

“Remember when I was talking about us being real? And everything being nothing and maybe all of this is just some weird experiment?”

Yuuri blinks at Victor, not following where Victor is running with this line of thought. Victor steps towards one of the men in black that have their taser aimed threateningly at Victor’s chest. He raises his hand, palm exposed and inching closer towards the electrical current that hisses and sparks a bright blue light.

“It’s time to test that theory,” Victor says, and places his palm against the taser’s electrical end.

The light disappears.

Yuuri’s mouth falls open in a gape.

Victor pushes the hand away, and the man in black moves as if he were a doll. His joints lock in a straight line, the steely expression frozen on his face. The other man beside him freezes in spot too. _Everything_ stops.

Victor reaches down to hold Yuuri’s hand. He squeezes it as he plants a firm kiss to Yuuri’s mouth.

“Let’s go,” he says. Yuuri nods, kissing him back.

 

 

 

They run.

They run past the frozen figures trapped in a moment in time. They run past the waitresses that are trapped pouring a glass of water that doesn’t flow from the pitcher. They run past the people that are standing in the shadows of the restaurant with their Coaches in their grasp as they both escape the restaurant and into the Hub.

“How did you know?!” Yuuri shouts as they weave through the people standing on the escalator, looking like lifeless mannequins with unrecognizable faces.

“I tried to remember what it was like before I entered the system!” Victor says. “I tried to remember how Makkachin looked like, and I couldn’t think of anything! I couldn’t even remember who was the friend that told me about this system in the first place!”

Yuuri furrows his eyebrows, and he tries to recall his own past before he entered the system.

They flicker, like a candle flame in the darkness that threatens to be snuffed. He tries to remember his mother’s face. He tries to remember his father, his sister, his family friends, his _life._

But he can’t.

“I can’t remember how I got here or who got me here, but what I _do_ know is that when we first held hands that night we met, it felt like _home._ It felt warm and familiar and...and everything felt like we’ve done this before. Like we’ve done this over and over again!” Victor shouts, pulling Yuuri around the corner as they hurry out of the Hub’s exit and past the cabs all lined up in a neat row. None of them move. The world is still silent as they make their escape.

“Maybe this is how it was always supposed to be,” Victor says in between mild gasps of breath, both running down over the slope of a grassy hill. “Maybe we were always meant to escape like this, like a couple of assholes saying ‘fuck you’ to an entire system!”

“Assholes in love!” Yuuri laughs. Victor does too, bringing Yuuri’s hands to kiss at his knuckles as they reach a stretch of dirt that leads towards the wall.

“Yes! I love you! I love you, Yuuri Katsuki! I love you, I love you!”

“I love you too!” Yuuri shouts, smile on his lips hurting his cheeks. He kisses Victor’s hand as well, kisses each knuckle as they draw closer and closer to the wall without anything or anyone following at their heels to reel them back to deal with them as they pleased.

Self-imposed banishment. Yuuri hopes they can escape.

They move closer and closer to the wall until finally, as they stand before a set of steel rungs left unguarded that move upwards towards infinity and the stars above, Yuuri thinks, _this is it._

Victor turns to Yuuri. “Ready?” he asks, squeezing Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri looks to the unknown of the ladder, to the empty space that exists above his head where the ladder stretches to. It’s so high, so daunting.

But Yuuri has made his choice long ago.

“Yes,” he says, taking Victor’s face into his hands to kiss him, before he rolls up the cuffs of his pants and hops up onto the first couple of rungs.

He climbs, and he hears Victor right behind him, matching Yuuri’s pace and both moving up the ladder at a relatively good speed. Though Yuuri doesn’t dare to look down to gage how high they are, he imagines that what is below must look like nothing but fallen stars in the darkness of the trees and forests, the people below looking like moving ants or flecks in the dark. Above him, the ladder continues to stretch upupup, to where Yuuri has no idea how much longer it is, how much farther they need to climb.

There’s sudden darkness that appears at the corner of his eye, off in the distance. He looks to his left, and sees the Hub disappear into darkness, followed by the lake, the trees, the very wall that they both are climbing towards their freedom.

His voice disappears in his throat as the rungs disappear into the darkness with everything, until he feels nothing but warmth around him, weightless, floating, free.

 

 

 

 

 

Yuuri sees countless copies of himself and Victor.

Yuuri sees countless copies of himself and Victor.

Yuuri sees countless copies of himself and Victor.

Dozens. Hundreds. A thousand.

They float together, in a vastness that stretches towards infinity in all directions, above them and below, left to right. Above their heads, there is a number that is circled in a halo of green light. 124. 683. 852. 957.

Yuuri looks up at the number above his and Victor’s heads, their arms around each other to hold the other close. 1000.

There’s a spark of light, like stars, like cosmos creating and destroying themselves. The copies disappear from Yuuri’s eyes in flashes of green and blue light that intermix and intertwine in a dance as they rise upupup. Yuuri feels Victor’s hand squeeze his tight, and the light slowly engulfs their forms. He closes his eyes as Victor’s lips find his once more.

They disappear in a flash of light. They become infinite.

* * *

 

**SIMULATION 1000 COMPLETED.**

**998 REBELLIONS LOGGED.**

**CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE A 99.8% MATCH!**

 

* * *

 

They meet at a bus stop on a rainy day in February.

Yuuri is in the midst of checking his email on his phone for any updates on class, his book bag slung over his shoulder and earbuds draped over his shoulder, when it suddenly pings.

_99.8% MATCH FOUND_

Phichit introduced him to this app. Yuuri’s not sure how it works persay, but Phichit had nothing but glowing praise to say about it. And now, currently, it announces that his match - 99.8%, that’s high, that’s near _perfect_ \- is steadily approaching.

When Yuuri looks up, a man is rushing out from the downpour of rain, a messenger bag raised over his head to shield him as best as it can.

The man is beautiful. Silver hair with raindrops that look like diamonds in his locks. His eyes - god, those eyes - they’re a blue, gentle and sparkling as he takes in Yuuri’s figure while he catches his breath. In his hand that doesn’t hold to his messenger bag, Yuuri sees his profile picture that he submitted for the app’s onboarding process, with _99.8% MATCH FOUND_ just below it.

It’s him.

It’s him.

It’s _him._

The man looks at Yuuri, and he smiles. It’s beautiful. It’s Yuuri’s. He melts all at once.

“Hi,” the man says, breathing it out and sounding mildly filled with wonder. He holds out his hand. “Victor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri smiles. He feels warm, in his cheeks, in his chest, in his bones.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” he says, and he takes Victor’s hand firmly into his.

**Author's Note:**

> monkey needs a hug


End file.
